


Alstroemeria: Or, Occasions for Flowers

by minoriaki



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A wedding fic in disguise (but not theirs), Alcohol use but nothing extreme, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Edeleth is prominently featured but not the main focus., Florist AU, M/M, sex happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minoriaki/pseuds/minoriaki
Summary: Hubert's father had told him numerous times-- before they'd stopped speaking-- that the best way to get back at someone is if the person in question doesn't realise that you've done it. It could be either by making the revenge so subtle as to not be noticed, or by making sure they never knew it was you.This time, he leaned toward the first option. It was with this thought in mind that he gathered materials for Ferdinand von Aegir's boutonniere._____________Or, Hubert and Ferdinand develop a relationship over several bundles of flowers.





	1. Summer | Tiger Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the many-- I'm so sorry-- people I had read sections of this before I posted it. You're all the real MVP. (Motivation increased!)

Hubert relished the feeling of cool air as he walked from his car to the front of the shop. It wasn't long before the summer heat would creep in with the rising sun, and Hubert wasn't a big fan. 

He unlocked the glass door and let it slam behind him, not caring too much about noise. After all, he'd be the only one here this early. 

The time, as he would tell Edelgard later that day when she thought to ask about his morning, wasn't important-- in reality, it was half past four, and Hubert mused about whether it would actually be early enough.

Coffee brewing in the back office, he breezed through the early morning inventory and started on the arrangements that demanded immediate attention. He tied a black apron around himself and made sure he had all the tools he'd need. 

White gardenias for one bride, dark peonies for another. A boutonniere to match each, bouquets and boutonnieres for the bridesmaids and groomsmen, respectively. Centrepieces for banquet tables, a crown for a flower girl-- the list went on and on, but it was Hubert's job to know, and to get it all done. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he clipped and shortened a collection of ferns, gathering small white flowers and greens with a small twig and a bit of spray for visual interest. He wrapped the ends in ribbon, creating a boutonniere for a groomsman's lapel.

Running a florist's is probably the most bullshit during June.

Summer itself was a trying time for Hubert. Avoiding the oppressive heat and the terrible sunburns it tended to angrily stamp onto his pale skin would have been enough on its own. He'd gone through a bottle of sunscreen already, as the weather had forced him into short sleeves, and at times he was forced to pull the longer pieces of hair back, or else they'd start sticking to his forehead. Even with all the sunscreen he'd used, he'd managed to get a burn on the back of his neck somehow. 

Children everywhere at all hours of the day also tended to irritate him, particularly when they found their way into the shop to snap stems or overhandle blooms. Kids paid no mind to glass cases, or signs suggesting that you shouldn't touch the delicate petals. On top of that, they were almost without exception very loud. The heat and kids alone were enough to sour Hubert's mood for an extended period of time. 

But the worst part about this time of year was that with summer came weddings. With weddings, came brides. With brides came bouquets and centrepieces and all kinds of noise and trouble and absolutely ridiculous behaviour.

Even worse was the fact that these brides tended to ask specifically for him, because someone or another had directed them to Hubert after seeing his work.

The shop's head florist would do anything to help Edelgard's business, but that didn't mean he liked it. Quite the opposite, in this case. The arranging was fine, and he actually took some joy in it-- it was the customers themselves he couldn't stand. 

On more than one occasion in the last week, Hubert had been forced to pick up the line on the shop's second phone and politely voice his opinion on a matter when a customer had been less than pleased with the service Edelgard's store provided. It tended to quiet them fairly quickly, and he hated that it worked.

If it had been him answering the calls in the first place, it likely wouldn't have been an issue. Hubert embraced his more menacing charms in those moments, which tended to help cut the bullshit down to a manageable amount. Customers usually thought they needed Hubert to not want to disembowel them in order to get their arrangements filled to their standards.

They had it all backwards. Hubert could deal with any manner of stupidity in his work-- it was Edelgard who would refuse a customer based purely on their behaviour. And that was fair, Edelgard was the only one Hubert thought should be allowed to make decisions that would affect their bottom line like that. In reality, she was the one you didn't want to piss off.

As such, Hubert preferred to take the calls, but Edelgard insisted that there be something in the damned shop that Hubert could take a break from now and again. Besides, as the face and owner, Edelgard was an appropriate person to deal with customer concerns. Summer was the time for her to deal with these things, as her most loyal employee was too busy dealing with everything else. 

Edelgard was right, really, and the fact wasn't lost on him during days when he would turn the lock on the front door in pitch black despite the length of a midsummer day, struggling to maintain any semblance of personhood until he had his first cup of coffee.

But that didn't mean Hubert had to like this arrangement. His boss maintained elegance and authority and decorum at all times and Hubert respected her beyond words. And customers were customers, and sometimes what customers are is monstrous, sexist whether they realise it or not, and certainly quite stupid. 

As such, it really was an annoyance-- he hated watching Edelgard use the venom at her disposal as she spoke into the receiver, but he knew she could handle herself. He just wished that she didn't have to, and with the worst of the year's customers. But there was nothing he could really do about it. 

One of these instances soured his mood that morning. A customer called, complaining about arrangements of lilies that were-- as Hubert had told the bride they would be-- too tall for the tables they were going to decorate. People were going to have to speak around them instead of over them-- the bride was likely looking for someone besides herself to blame. Hubert picked up the second cordless phone and took the verbal lashing himself. 

"I can't believe you let them speak to you that way, Hubert." Edelgard mused as she hung up the phone, beginning to place a delivery on a cart to take to their truck outside. The boxes were each emblazoned with an E, and the shop's name-- Edelweiss.

He'd had to persuade the purchaser of that order out of a bouquet of hydrangeas-- not only would they wilt quickly without water, one of their meanings was absolutely terrible-- though he was tempted to allow it just for the woman who'd ordered them. She and her wilted and mean spirited flowers deserved each other, probably.

"When you consider that the choice is letting them speak to me like that, or letting them speak to you in an even worse way, I'd think the choice would be an obvious one for me to make." Hubert gestured loosely with a pair of floral scissors. 

“You know I can take care of myself," she chided, sighing and pushing the cart towards the door. "But... Thank you."

"Always welcome." Hubert's tone was fond, but also just a little bit smug. Edelgard wasn't going to die on that hill, and they both knew it. As proud as Edelgard was, she saw the unique nonsense-deterring qualities that even Hubert’s voice alone supplied.

"I'll be back soon! And when I get back we're talking about your raise, and you're not weaseling out of it this time."

"Of course."

He heard the door swing as Edelgard took the flowers out back. A few minutes later she was gone, and he was left quickly cutting soft green brunia in quiet as Linhardt took an order up front. 

It was almost peaceful, if you ignored the fact that the amount of work they had left would likely keep Hubert in the store until after dark.

However, Edelgard’s departure took his good mood right along with it. It also may have had something to do with the leaf cut he gave himself about fifteen minutes afterward. His hands were calloused-- but callouses could only do so much, and once in a while a leaf managed to draw blood. He cursed, sucking on the side of his index finger while reaching for the box of bandaids.

Any trace of Hubert's good mood remaining after that shattered with the sound of glass breaking in the next room.

"Uh, Hubert... You may want to come out here," came Linhardt, an edge of urgency to his usually unconcerned tone. "May want a broom too."

Damn it all. He quickly put on a bandage, hurrying into the next room after grabbing what he'd needed.

Broom in hand, he arrived at the scene of what could be termed a crime-- at least if you asked a vase. A red-headed man, face as brightly coloured as his hair, was kneeling on the ground and attempting to pick up the larger pieces of glass with his fingers.

"Get up off the floor, for heaven’s sake. Don't touch the glass." 

The man turned impossibly more red, immediately shooting off of the ground, holding the tiny cut on his finger close to his chest. Of course he had given himself hurt.

"I'm incredibly sorry! I was just talking, and I accidentally hit a vase with my hand, and I--"

Hubert shot a glare at him which stopped him in mid-sentence, sweeping up what seemed like a suspiciously large amount of glass for one vase, before looking up and realising the shelf was, in fact, missing at least three. "Linhardt. First aid kit."

"--I, hm." The customer’s smile looked panicked until he seemed to straighten himself, holding his chest with such a pompous air that Hubert almost wanted to hit him with the broom. "Of course, I'll pay for anything that I've damaged. I wouldn't dream of doing you such a disservice." His chin sat about twenty degrees too high for Hubert's liking.

"What you've damaged." Hubert leaned against the edge of the counter. He knew exactly what had happened based on the evidence, but wanted to hear him say it. "And what all was damaged, exactly?"

"... It seems to be four vases. And that broken stem. Not to mention my pride." A smile as the customer ran his fingers through the front of his hair and deflated slightly, pulling a piece out of the bun that fell at the back of his neck. The gold watch on his wrist flashed in the halogen lighting.

Damn. It seemed not only had he broken a good portion of their vase inventory, but this man had victimised one of his lilacs.

_Not to mention his pride._ Hubert was sure he had pride to spare, looking at his posture as well as the way he'd dressed himself, perfectly manicured, hair well cared for and accessorised expensively.

The man reminded him of someone, and he couldn't put his finger on who-- but he was fairly sure that whoever it was, he probably like him. 

Hubert could have let all of this go if it was one or two vases. But four? And damaged blooms on top of that? And parading around his shop like that on top of it all? 

Linhardt came around the corner with the first aid kit, looking a bit pale until he saw Ferdinand's finger, regaining what little colour he usually had when he noticed it wasn't bleeding. He paled again when he saw Hubert's expression. It wasn't lost on Hubert, and he scowled.

"And the lost business, I don't suppose you'd compensate us for that too."

"Pardon?" The man's face, at first soft and warm in apology, sharpened in indignation, quite plain on his face. He puffed himself up again, lowering the fine leather wallet he had been rifling through. 

Hubert re-evaluated his situation. His usual prickly tactics weren't working on this one and were only escalating the situation. Besides, he would hardly expect a customer to understand the principles of supply and demand. Demand where supply doesn't exist leads to unhappy people. Which leads to loss of business. Which leads to where all failed businesses end up.

"Never mind." For Edelgard, he would hold in his irritation like he had countless times before. No problem. No sense in losing another customer.

Hubert picked his broom and dustpan back up and cleared away more of the mess.

A pause, as Linhardt quietly passed the customer a few more bandaids than were likely necessary, to which the customer smiled and gave a sincere-sounding little thank you. Linhardt then pushed past them both and placed another bandage on the broken lilac stem, giving it a little pat before returning to his book, one eyebrow raised in warning as if cautioning Hubert against further bad behaviour.

Hubert scowled, then thought better of it.

"Anyway," Hubert began, attempting to mask his contempt with a tired smile, "Was there something you came here for?"

"Oh!" His face lit up. "Yes! There absolutely was." His smile was a little too bright to look at directly.

"And what was it, exactly?" Hubert swept the last of the glass into his dustpan, ducking behind the counter to slide it into the garbage bin.

"I do need something, in addition to making up to you for the mess." He gestured widely around them, and it was no wonder that he had knocked something off of the shelf. His movements were wide, like a tenor on the stage in an opera. "I need a boutonniere for an event."

"A wedding?" Hubert grimaced, but only on the inside, moving to grab a pen and paper.

"Tis the season!" His tone was joyful, and his smile reached his eyes.

"What colour would you like?"

"Since I've been such a bother, you can do whatever you think would be fun."

"Usually I am at least given an idea of where to start. A theme. A colour. A flower." He was making this more difficult than it needed to be.

"Well then, whatever you think would suit me best."

A dunce cap perhaps, Hubert considered. 

But then, there was an idea.

"Alright," he said, an uncharacteristic smile creeping onto his face. Linhardt looked up and raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Wonderful! This place came highly recommended to me from a... family friend." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I look forward to seeing your work."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he muttered, and then continued to take details for the order. Next week, Tuesday. Send a picture when it's done, so he knows what colour of tie to wear. The phone number given would do for that. He’d pick it up on his way to his event. Perfect. 

"And your name?" The plan was beginning to come together, and Hubert's stomach coiled in satisfaction at his own little idea.

A funny look on his face flashed for a moment before settling into another smile. "Oh, of course. Ferdinand von Aegir."

* * *

The next Monday, Edelweiss's chief florist-- now on his fourth cup of coffee-- was having a busy day, but a quick one. Everything was going smoothly, particularly due to the presence of another set of capable hands.

The soft jazz that played in the back room helped him focus, and he could hear Petra softly hum along to the bits that she recognised from hearing it before. Low piano scales helped lull him into a rhythm as he gathered stems in his gloved hands. 

Petra worked quietly at the other end of the large table, gathering a clump of white and peach ranunculus and blue thistles together with small white flowers and silvery greens to make a fifth bouquet for a fifth bridesmaid. She then fastened the ends together with the fine hemp braid she'd woven in preparation. 

Satisfied that they had made sufficient progress, Hubert set aside the final finished table arrangement and left Petra to deal with the larger bride's bouquet on her own. Petra was better at rustic styles than he was anyway, and she knew how to ask for help if she needed it.

Hubert's father had told him numerous times-- before they'd stopped speaking-- that the best way to get back at someone is if the person in question doesn't realise that you've done it. It could be either by making the revenge so subtle as to not be noticed, or by making sure they never knew it was you.

This time, he leaned toward the first option. It was with this thought in mind that he gathered materials for Ferdinand von Aegir's boutonniere.

It would be oversized, but in a way that suited the man he was making it for, so as to fulfill his orders. It would be garish and bright and match Ferdinand's red hair. But the best part was that the meaning meant Hubert would get a chuckle out of it-- an instant little joke about just what kind of person he was, to anyone who knew their flower language.Even most florists didn’t care about flower meanings, which made it even more of a one-man laugh. 

Tiger lily. It had a few meanings, but the one he was going for was vanity.

He clipped the stem of the smallest one he could find, still a little bit larger than he would usually make a boutonniere, but small enough not to look like something a clown would wear. It was a little darker, and had a bit more red to it than most tiger lilies did-- too bright and it would clash terribly.

The stamens would need to be dealt with-- he wouldn't have the boutonniere staining his customer's lapel with pollen. Edelgard had a reputation to maintain. He trimmed each, and was satisfied with the more streamlined look it gave the bloom.

He then complimented it with a small branch of red hypericum and a small clipping of ruscus to finish it off. Hubert wrapped the stems together with a bright sky blue ribbon, fastening it with expert hands.

Edelgard watched him bury the ends of the ribbon, leaning in the doorway. "That's certainly a flashy one."

"It's for a... _flashy_ man." He shook his head.

Petra glanced between them, and then visibly refocused herself on her arranging. Her lips drew into a fine line as she worked.

"I'm curious. I don't think I've seen you use a lily for a boutonniere. Usually you'd use an alstro instead." She was right-- he usually swapped Asiatic lilies out for alstroemeria when they were requested. They were smaller, had a little bit more elegance to them, and had far less pollen.

Hubert examined the piece in his hands quietly for a second or two. His boss was still gazing at him expectantly when he looked up.

He responded, his face calculatedly blank. "The customer who ordered it asked me to have fun." He brought the piece closer to the window so he could take a picture in the sunlight, showing off the flower's true colour.

Petra's concentration finally broke. "Hubert? Is having fun?" She looked a little more surprised than necessary, but Hubert supposed that it was true that he didn't give the impression of a fun-loving man. And the impression was likely correct. 

The shop's owner tapped her foot. "Since when does fun for you involve dealing with lily pollen?"

"Maybe there are a few things left that you don't know about me," he said nonchalantly, snapping the photo.

"Unfortunately," Edelgard muttered, "that's really very true."

"If even Edelgard has things she still does not know about Hubert, I am sure I know close n-- I mean, almost nothing." Petra was probably right there.

Hubert hummed in acknowledgement, and changed the subject. "By the way Edelgard, If you could authorize the staff pay on the back table. I calculated everything for you this morning."

"How early did you say you were here again?"

"I didn't."

"Fair enough." A series of steps fell as she walked to the table, and the quiet room filled with both the sound of paper being flipped and soft humming from Petra's part of the room.

A pause as Edelgard read, Petra worked, and Hubert sent the photo. 

"_Hubert_..."

"Edelgard?"

"Would you _please_ stop dropping your wage back down every time I try to give you a raise." It was said as an order, not a request. "You really do deserve it."

"As you wish."

"That's what you've said the last four times."

A giggle from Petra.

Hubert merely smiled and went to put the boutonniere in the cooler, the ringing of the phone demanding Edelgard’s attention and gifting him with a rare chance at the last word. "And doubtless, I'll say it again."

* * *

Ferdinand von Aegir returned the next week, just as Hubert was about to go on a delivery-- Edelgard, who usually would’ve taken care of it, was out for a rare lunch with her partner. 

It had taken a while for Hubert to warm to them, to read the blank blue stare that Edelgard seemed to find so soothing, but it had been long enough for Hubert to appreciate the way they gave Edelgard comfort in ways Hubert was unable to. As much as he cared for her, as he had since he first met her as the child, he could never love her in the way Byleth did-- it relieved him to know that someone would. It had been hard for Edelgard to find someone, her focus on her work tended to drive many away, but Byleth seemed to find it endearing.

Byleth also came and helped around the shop when things were particularly hard-- they worked as a consultant, and so their schedule was rather flexible. And besides, Linhardt had slept in enough times to make having a backup very handy.

Having the two of them tied up at the same time left things a little bit short-staffed, but Linhardt and Petra would help him get by. At least, unless Mr. von Aegir decided to break the other half of the vases while he was here. 

The telltale bell at the front of the shop was enough to alert Hubert that someone was there, but it was the loud greeting that told him that his target had arrived. 

For once eager to see to a customer if only to hand over the condemning accessory, Hubert reached the cooler, pulling out the bold tiger lily boutonniere before striding through the swinging doors to see the red-headed man pulling off a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses and making conversation with Linhardt. The worker looked like he’d rather be reading the stack of academic articles he’d printed off and brought with him to peruse when things got a little less hectic, but his customer didn’t seem to notice. 

“I believe you're looking for this,” Hubert called, trying to wipe the satisfied smirk out of his voice unsuccessfully. Ferdinand either chose not to react to it or didn’t notice, because the smile on his face grew larger upon his entry into the conversation. 

“Hello Hubert! I am so excited to see what you’ve made.” Hubert hadn’t recalled telling him his name, but he supposed he’d heard about him by recommendation. 

He nodded and handed over the small plastic container, trying not to jostle the flower inside around too much. 

The pleased gasp from Ferdinand gave Hubert a feeling of immense satisfaction-- his plan was still unnoticed, and hearing his work praised always made him proud, though not as much as it would puff up others he supposed. “It looks even better in person! Though it is a little bigger than I expected.” He pulled open the box with a level of delicacy that Hubert wouldn’t have guessed he possessed, cufflinks glinting while he pried it open. “I simply have to try it on.” 

He held the tiger lily gingerly, pressing it gently against his lapel. Linhardt whistled, impressed. “Well?” He directed the question to both Linhardt and Hubert, obviously keening for their approval. “How do I look?” Ferdinand did a little twirl for their benefit. 

Hubert had to admit, he looked absolutely great. Ferdinand wore a light grey three piece suit, woven with different shades and hues of grey to give it more depth, and had paired it with a snow white shirt and a sky blue bow tie, matching the ribbon Hubert had tied around the stems. A yellow pocket square with small blue and orange flowers was folded neatly in his pocket, and the burnt orange lily made it pop. His cufflinks had small sky blue stones in them that gleamed, his shoes were polished to perfection, and his hair was tied back elegantly, accented with braids that were gathered along with the rest of his hair into an artfully dishevelled bun. He probably could make a bride jealous. 

Hubert nodded his approval, satisfied that he hadn’t sacrificed the quality of his work for his own little joke-- though he had to admit, Ferdinand really knocked it out of the park matching what he had made. He suppressed any shade of inclination to praise Ferdinand to the extent he deserved and said, “I suppose it'll have to do.” 

The half compliment wasn't lost on Ferdinand. It was like praising a puppy, the way happiness washed so plainly over his face, and Hubert felt almost a little guilty after seeing it. He quickly kicked that thought away-- the likelihood there would be any consequences for Ferdinand by wearing that piece was incredibly low-- Hubert would just get his little bit of revenge and satisfaction, and that would be it. 

The pure joy in Ferdinand’s face at being complimented lasted through payment and the idle chatter between Linhardt and Ferdinand that followed, and the customer slid his sunglasses on as he gently placed the piece back in the container and made to leave. The bell rang, and Hubert made to go for the back before hearing the bell ring again, Ferdinand popping his head back into the door. 

“Hubert!”

His head whipped around in surprise, and he was sure he looked probably a little hostile before forcing himself to loosen up. “For heaven's sake. Yes?”

And Ferdinand grinned, tipping his sunglasses down. “You’ve made yourself a new regular!” And then just like that, he was gone, leaving a sighing Hubert in his wake. 

Though he supposed he hadn’t been nearly as annoying this time around. He continued on with his tasks, and returned to the delivery he’d previously been arranging in the back of the shop’s truck. 

When Hubert returned from his errand elsewhere, Edelgard was working at almost triple speed, moving around boxes and cleaning up a back room that was already in some semblance of order before she had taken herself to task. She was so lost in what she was doing that it took Hubert walking right up behind her and clearing his throat to get any reaction out of her. 

“Ahem.”

“AH,” she whipped around, face flushed and eyes wide, then firmly smoothed down her blouse and skirt with a small cough. “Hubert, I have news.” She was trying not to sound too excited, but it wasn’t working on Hubert. For once, she was being surprisingly easy to read. 

“Let me guess,” Hubert said, wheeling the cart he’d used into the corner where it belonged, “We’re closing down. Someone’s passed. Someone poisoned your lunch. It must be something truly awful to have put you in such a bad mood.” It was sarcasm, but it was said with a hint of a smile, hidden by Hubert’s turned back. 

“Hubert…” That admonishing tone. “It’s good news. Turn around, I want to see your reaction.” 

And so he did what she asked as he usually did and turned to look expectantly at Edelgard, failing to hide the smile creeping on his face as she said exactly what he’d expected to hear the second he’d seen her straighten out her outfit and he’d noticed her left ring finger. 

“Hubert, I’m getting married.” And she flashed her silver ring with the biggest smile he’d seen her wear in years. 

* * *

Ferdinand made good on his promise and showed up at least once a week for the rest of the season-- at least two arrangements a month, and two more boutonnieres for other occasions-- one wedding, and a formal baby shower for a friend-- he didn’t give those the tiger lily treatment, instead crafting them like Ferdinand had originally appointed him to do, as pieces that would suit him. Other bouquets were sprinkled in between. 

The first time he’d shown up, he’d spoken to Hubert for a full ten minutes about anything and everything-- the weather, the flowers in season, a dog he’d had-- as he termed it-- the privilege of petting, outside. It was all said with a smile that Hubert noticed would fall just a little bit if he said something with the wrong tone, which was often. He never professed to being a people person. 

Hubert wasn’t quite sure anymore whether he found him annoying-- he was quite reasonable to deal with despite his initial impression, but had a tendency to interrupt his work whenever he came in and apparently only ever arrived when Hubert was around. 

Still, he became slowly accustomed to Ferdinand's loud voice and bright smile, even if he sometimes still found both a little overwhelming-- especially if used at the same time. Hubert eventually became better at avoiding the falls in conversation that seemed to leave Ferdinand so put out, and it felt increasingly less like he was walking on eggshells. 

They would hold a rather one-sided conversation about whatever event or occasion Ferdinand needed the item for, who was involved and where it was-- Hubert would attempt to show civility for the sake of keeping his business, and then Ferdinand would go on his way. At least for most of his purchases. 

There were two marked exceptions, both being arrangements of white alstroemerias that he’d said were gifts. 

It was these last two arrangements that he found himself preoccupied with as he reclined on his dark grey couch on a late evening, arms slung over the back and head turned upwards. The mellow keys of Bill Evans filtered through the living room, marking it as a quiet and reflective evening, and he combed the hair away from his face with one hand. 

Hubert’s apartment wasn’t huge-- he’d heard it described as big enough, and he was inclined to agree. He didn’t spend a huge amount of time there and as such didn't feel the need to furnish it extensively. What decoration there was was fairly simple and modern-looking, with dark colours and silhouettes-- Edelgard had dragged him out to get most of it if he was being honest, and he’d deferred to her expertise. 

He stood and moved to do the dishes of a late supper that had consisted of vietnamese takeout that he’d purchased on his way home. Scrubbing a glass, Hubert looked out the window, watching the sun go down on one of the longer days of the year. Purple was beginning to peek in at the edges of the sky, beginning its slow march downwards toward the horizon. He flicked on the light switch preemptively. 

Ferdinand had said that the alstros were a gift for someone, and when asked about it, said that they were “his favourite”. He wondered who “he” was. Was it a partner? A relative? Whoever it was, Ferdinand wasn’t particularly inclined to speak about them which was rare-- Ferdinand talked about everything. 

At this point Hubert knew his favourite colour (red), the name and breed of his dog (Bishop, who was a golden retriever-- Hubert wondered if he was one of those people who looked like his pets), and his birthday (April 30th, less than two weeks after his own). 

Then it occurred to him that though he spoke constantly, he didn’t really say much. 

Sure, he knew all of these little facts, but Ferdinand hadn’t really revealed more than he would to any other stranger. And something about that bothered him. He only knew things about Ferdinand that any kindergartener would learn about a classmate on their first day of school, which should be sufficient for any customer. Should be more than enough for him to do his proper job of keeping Ferdinand satisfied with his work. 

But something about those damned alstros intrigued him, to get silence from someone so willing to share. It was like a loose string in a sweater, begging him to pull until he unraveled it entirely. 

But Hubert didn’t need yet another thing to worry about. 

He dried the cup he’d been holding in his hands aimlessly for the last minute or so, and put it in the cupboard. 

* * *

Hubert looked down through a pair of round dark-grey glasses at the bundle of dusty miller, white chrysanthemums and small pink stocks held in his hands while Linhardt studied him across the table, arms crossed. 

“Are you going to tell me why you’re standing there in some sort of poor attempt at intimidation? I’m sure you have better things to do than trying to impersonate my mother.” He could be a little more direct with Linhardt-- he knew he could handle it and dish it out as well as he took, though he still tried not to cross any lines. After all, he was technically something resembling Linhardt’s supervisor. 

Linhardt’s brows relaxed. “Sorry, it’s just strange seeing you put this much thought into a piece. Not only that, but you don’t look quite as much like you’re gleefully butchering the flowers as you usually do.” He waved one hand. “So sue me for being curious.”

Hubert paused and placed his materials down on the table, scowling. “I do not _butcher_ the flowers.”

“Well…. Okay, that’s true. But I haven’t seen you be quite this delicate in a while.” Linhardt nodded towards the small bundle of white mums on the table. “Do they mean anything? I know you do that sometimes.”

And picking them up, Hubert lied-- “I haven’t the slightest.” He knew what white chrysanthemums meant, he just hadn’t considered it until now. 

“Okay, then who’s that for?”

“Ferdinand.” He wasn’t sure when he’d started calling him by just his first name. 

Hubert wrapped the stems of the piece in a cranberry-coloured ribbon, contemplating how the flowers stood for truth, and Linhardt hummed, watching him for another few seconds before walking away to take care of something else. 

* * *

June became July, and July became August until It was a Friday, and it was raining, and Ferdinand hadn’t shown up all week. 

The worst of the season was over, and it was finally time for Hubert to catch his breath-- and start wearing slightly longer sleeves, much to his relief. 

Hubert didn’t mind the rain-- it meant more time to catch up on other work since the shop tended to slow, and Edelgard herself was working the front counter and happily rifling through magazines. Linhardt was cleaning things up in the back, sweeping discarded leaves into a garbage bin, long hair tucked all the way back into a bun for once instead of draped over his shoulders. 

She called back into Hubert’s workspace without leaving her perch on the high stool behind the register. “You realise I’m going to have you do my bouquet, right Hubert?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hubert stated through the door, not tearing his eyes away from the white roses he was forming into a simple arrangement for someone to grab, should they not have much time to request something personal. 

Edelgard and Byleth had decided on a February wedding-- the idea of the snow suited the two of them, as well as Edelgard’s platinum hair. Besides, it was always hard to guarantee whether Edelgard’s father would be around for another entire year-- he’d been sick in the hospital for almost as long as Hubert could remember. February gave them enough time to prepare without taking so long that it would be stressful. 

A beat as Edelgard read, then placed her magazine on the desk. “Hubert, I have a question for you.”

“Of course.” 

She paused, and Hubert could hear the hesitation in her voice. “I saw you make an arrangement last week of white alstros.”

“I’ve made a few, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“It looked made to order, with little roses in it.” 

“Yes, I remember that one.” He looked up and out the window at the rain, turning torrential. 

“Who did you make it for?" 

“A regular customer. You've been lucky enough not to encounter him." He wiped his hands on his apron and stepped out into the front of the shop to join her. 

"What's his name?" Her face was impossible to read.

Linhardt popped his head around the corner to see what was going on as the bell on the door rang, someone coming in from the downpour. 

Hubert blinked. “Ferdinand von Aegir.”

A voice from the door. “Yes?”

And there stood Ferdinand in the entrance to the florists’, squeezing rainwater out of his hair until he froze at the sight of Edelgard. His long coat dripped onto their floor, and Hubert quickly barked at Linhardt to grab a mop before someone slipped. 

The most curious thing was that Ferdinand looked almost like a kicked puppy. “Good afternoon, Edelgard.” It was curiously soft, not the loud enthusiastic tone Hubert was accustomed to from him. Something inside him sank, and he pushed the thought away. 

Edelgard held a carefully crafted smile. “Good afternoon, Ferdie. It’s been a while.” 

And his regular customer approached the counter and made talk with Edelgard about their lives, how business was going, Edelgard’s ring and the fact she was getting married. As if they were catching up. 

And all of a sudden it fell into place. Hubert laid his face in his hands at the realisation, fading into the background of the conversation. Oh. _Oh_.

All in one instant Hubert realised that it was Ferdie, who’d lived across the street from Edelgard her whole life. Ferdie, who had competed with her at every turn in school. _Ferdinand von Aegir_, who he'd given an insulting boutonniere and had made an arrangement for at least once a week for the past two and a half months. 

No wonder Hubert had found him annoying when he'd come in that first day. After all, Ferdinand had been annoying Edelgard his whole life. 


	2. Fall Part 1 | Ranunculus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranunculus: I am charmed by you.

The Hresvelgs’ caretakers’ quarters were located on the edge of the gardens, close enough to arrive quickly when needed but far enough out of the way to ignore. A decent sized house, it was where Hubert had been raised while his mother and father served to run the Hresvelg household. 

He’d been about eight when it happened, and she was around six. It was a grey autumn day, and Hubert had heard her crying through the fence around where he knew the rose bushes were. And then he’d promptly stepped on a stick which snapped with a large crack, and heard her pause. 

“Who’s there,” a small voice called out. 

“Hubert,” he’d said, quiet and dull. 

“Hubert,” Edelgard spoke quietly, trying the name out on her tongue. “Hubert, I’m lonely.”

He had not always been afraid of heights. Hubert had loved climbing trees-- liked the feeling of watching others without detection from high branches. So Hubert didn’t think anything of trying to scale the high fence to get to her. 

He’d never fallen before, never seen rose bushes coming up at him at that speed before, never felt how time seemed to slow down in those moments before you hit the ground. But of course, he fell hands-first into the Hresvelgs’ garden and broke his wrist. 

His loud cry had brought Hubert’s parents out from the house, who had reproached him endlessly about being careless. About how he could’ve died. About the thorns in his hands and knees. About how they’d never get the blood out of his cuffs. About the rose bushes he had ruined, how much care had gone into growing them, pruning them, manicuring them-- it was the rose bushes they seemed to care about most of all. He and Edelgard both cried at the scolding. 

But Edelgard had been lonely. And Hubert had been lonely too. 

You couldn’t convince Hubert to climb another tree afterwards, nor could you convince him to leave Edelgard’s side. 

Hubert and Edelgard spent most of their days together when they weren’t at school. Since his family was responsible for her house, he took it upon himself to to be responsible for her.

He shared his old toys and books, and read to her. That is, until he realised her reading level was almost as high as his was, and Edelgard was itching to read the books herself. (It was faster, she had said in her matter of fact little voice.) 

Before, Hubert was largely used to caring for himself, now it became a game of doing things in twos-- two peanut butter sandwiches to make, two jackets to zip up when it got cold, two tangled heads of hair to brush, though his seemed more tangled than hers. 

Hubert’s routine expanded effortlessly for Edelgard, to the point where he couldn’t imagine it without her. It made things easier, to have that little smile as a reward for taking care of himself and her. They created their own codes to talk, and would leave each other notes in strange symbols so they could chat about whatever they wanted in whatever way they wanted. 

But then Edelgard’s father became suddenly ill, and Hubert's role had changed from babysitter to primary caretaker when her uncle, Arundel, showed signs of neglecting her. 

It would be a lie to say that Hubert hadn’t suspected his own family of ill intent once he’d become older. It would’ve been so easy for them to slip something into Edelgard's father's food. 

As Edelgard grew older, she grew into her family’s authority-- instead of following at Hubert’s heels like she had as a smaller child, she was dragging him forward by the hand. And then eventually she was standing in front of him, shorter, but imposing, and strong and capable-- and then it was Hubert’s turn to follow. 

Her love had always been the red carnations that grew out the back, but it soon expanded to the entire garden. Then her passions drifted toward business. And finally, both. 

Being older than Edelgard, he made sure to educate himself in order to guide her as best as he could. He took courses in small business management opening businesses, in flower arrangement, and pored over countless books. One such book was on the meanings that flowers could hold, and it fascinated him as a possible method another way to speak to another person undetected and relay complicated messages. 

So Hubert gave Edelgard a copy of the same book, and when Edelgard’s uncle became angry with her and would keep her from Hubert, he left flowers on her windowsill. Yellow carnations, to show his dislike for the one who’d locked Edelgard up. Chamomile for patience that this would let up soon. And once, a daffodil that had caused a bit of a stir between them when Edelgard thought it had been a love confession-- he’d meant it as respect. An amateur mistake he wouldn’t make again. 

All that while, Ferdinand-- or Ferdie, as he had been called in his childhood, had lived across the street in the second largest house on the block, owned by a business partner of Uncle Arundel. He’d attended the same schools as Edelgard had-- richer than the ones Hubert went to-- and had driven Edelgard up several walls throughout their education together. When Edelgard started playing tennis, so did Ferdinand. Edelgard skipped a grade, and Ferdinand skipped one the next year just to prove that he could too. 

When they were young, it was like Ferdie’s red hair was a matador’s cape, and Hubert’s irritation was a bull, charging forward on sight. All the stories he heard from Edelgard were full of exasperation at this boy who claimed he was better than her, and so he regarded the boy with disdain whenever they met. 

Which is why it was so incredibly odd that the three of them were standing there like this, Ferdinand and Edelgard having an amiable-- if somewhat stilted-- conversation while Hubert mentally berated himself for letting himself forget what Ferdinand looked like. Surely it hadn’t been that long.

To tell the truth, he was embarrassed-- it was careless on his part to simply forget someone’s face. Especially the face of someone who had the potential to influence Edelgard’s life if he took over his father’s part of the family business, the Hresvelg part of which had fallen to Edelgard’s uncle since the illness of her father. 

Not even hearing Ferdinand’s name had prompted the connection in his head, and it made him feel worse to know that Ferdinand had remembered Hubert's perfectly. 

What he didn’t notice was both Edelgard and Ferdinand stealing glances at him from the front desk, too focused on the feeling of his face turning an unfitting shade of pink for his skin tone. Ferdinand’s glances were nervous, almost manic-- Edelgard instead looked amused, and she finally created a lull in the conversation by putting up her hand to interrupt Ferdinand’s train of thought. 

“Hubert,” she called quietly, tilting her head, “Could you mop up some of the rainwater?” Of course. Linhardt had brought out the mop a full minute ago, and Hubert felt the need to shake his head to rid it of any other cobwebs that could be lurking about. 

A low hum, and he set up to cleaning Ferdinand’s mess. Edelgard gave Hubert a pointed look and excused herself, leaving him and his customer alone, the only sound the gentle slosh of the water on the floor and the thunder beginning to pound outside. 

“So,” Hubert leaned on the end of the mop nonchalantly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with his free hand only for them to fall right back into place over his eyes, “Were you ever going to tell me you were  _ the  _ Ferdinand von Aegir, or was I to figure that out on my own?”

Ferdinand laughed awkwardly, undoing his jacket and moving to look out the front windows at the storm that was crashing in around them. “To be fair, I did in fact tell you who I was, probably a dozen times over. It isn’t my fault your memory is slipping.”

Hubert scowled at the back of Ferdinand’s head, and then openly at the front of his head when he turned around. 

Ferdinand puffed himself up a little despite the fact he was shivering from cold, and that was when Hubert knew that he’d lost any hope of gaining the high ground in this conversation. So Hubert did what anyone (read: probably no one) in that situation would do with a customer trapped in his store for the foreseeable future, and invited him into the back room to sit while he dried off. 

And so there they were in the back room: Edelgard, Linhardt, Ferdinand and himself, Linhardt draping his spare blanket around Ferdinand’s wet shoulders as Edelgard put a kettle on to boil. 

Hubert resumed working on the white rose arrangement he’d left neglected in the back room while Ferdinand made an attempt to chat at a not-very-receptive Linhardt, adding filler flowers and greens to even out the composition. It didn’t take him more than a minute to finish his work, and he cleaned it up and brought it out to the front of the store. 

He returned and wiped off his work surface as Edelgard was calling out tea varieties and put out mugs for the other three-- they’d chosen earl grey, an herbal peach tea, and a brew called ‘sleepy time’, respectively. 

“None for Hubert?” Ferdinand gathered the blanket around his shoulders while Edelgard poured 

“None for Hubert,” Hubert replied firmly. 

“It’s hard to convince him to drink anything but black coffee,” explained Edelgard, “There’s a kind of chai he likes, but we’ve run out.” 

Hubert gave a low hum, leaning against the side of the back cooler. “Tolerates is a better word.” 

Ferdinand was watching him with curiosity. “I find it hard to believe that out of all of the different varieties of tea, there isn’t a single one you actually like.” 

Linhardt laid his head onto the table. “And yet. But manage to find something bitter enough to match Hubert’s wonderful personality and you might just be onto something.” 

Proving Linhardt right, he scowled.

Linhardt, Edelgard and Ferdinand made small talk while the tea steeped, Hubert supplying a response when prompted. 

It felt strange, having Ferdinand there-- he was a customer, and Hubert hadn’t quite reconciled that idea yet with him also being someone he’d known his whole life. But Hubert supposed he was getting used to the idea because he eventually noticed the tension in his shoulders had disappeared. At least, until they heard a giant crack of thunder and his shoulders shot up again in reaction. 

“Thank goodness I stepped in here,” Ferdinand said, “I could’ve been standing in some other store dripping wet. But you’ve all been incredibly kind.” 

“Maybe we just felt guilty. You’ll never know.” Linhardt’s voice was slurred, and Edelgard fixed a second blanket around his shoulders while she read a report from a clipboard. 

“Guilty? For what?” He looked around the room with a smile, meeting Edelgard’s eyes as she looked up from her work-- she shrugged to say she had no idea. 

“Mmmfor Hubert’s company. He can be prickly.” 

“I’m not prickly to customers, you lazy dolt.” 

“Lies, all lies.” Linhardt moved his head up to rest the bottom of his chin on the table, looking at Ferdinand. “You should’ve heard him on the phone the other day.” A pause. “Though I guess what he said wasn’t bad, but it was very… Menacing.” He curled himself back up.

He crossed his arms. “I was only as…. ‘Menacing’ as I needed to be.” 

Ferdinand laughed, and Edelgard tried and failed to hide a smile. “I can assure you,” he said, “he’s been just fine. Well, Hubert’s version of fine.” And another chuckle. Hubert prickled a little bit-- he’d thought he’d been being quite nice. 

Then Ferdinand paused as a smile came across his face. “If I told my younger self that as an adult I’d be sitting here drinking tea with Edelgard and Hubert, I don’t think he would’ve believed me.” 

Edelgard walked over and gently bopped him on the head with her clipboard. “Ferdinand, please. We ate together almost every day when we were in school, at your own insistence.”

“That’s true.” He gathered the blanket around him and looked at Hubert with that a sheepish look. “It’s more the Hubert part that’s the surprise.” 

Hubert felt a mysterious pang in his chest that spelled oncoming danger. 

“If it brings your younger self comfort, I’m not drinking any tea.” Hubert allowed himself the hint of a smile, even if he knew it would probably look more like a predator targeting prey than it would any genuine amusement. Ferdinand seemed to take it well though, and relaxed. 

“You know, I thought I was quite lucky that you didn’t realise it was me. I was fairly sure that as children you’d hated me.” 

“That’s because I did.” It was said without malice. It was true, Hubert hadn’t liked the way he’d bothered Edelgard-- what was the point in hiding it?

“Don’t think I don’t notice the past tense! And what about now?” Ferdinand smiled, but there was something in the twist of his mouth that said that he was genuinely concerned about his answer. 

Oh. What a question  _ that _ had suddenly become. “The jury’s out.” 

The flash of concern passed, and Ferdinand smiled openly. “Not an outright declaration of hatred! Edelgard, I think that means I can hope, doesn’t it?” He was excited, and his voice boomed 

She smiled, but gestured to Linhardt, who was half asleep on the table. 

Ferdinand stage whispered, and his smile turned sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, we’re still paying him right now.” Hubert admonished Linhardt, but still lowered his voice out of consideration. It wasn’t like there were any customers at the moment besides Ferdinand-- they could afford to rest. 

Edelgard finally sat down, taking a tall stool to sit beside Ferdinand as they continued their talking from earlier. Hubert listened this time, moving to fill his coffee machine for a cup.

He learned that Ferdinand had tried to open his own business and had been forced to cut his losses when it wasn’t doing well. That he freelanced now as a photographer, which explained all the weddings he’d gone to. That he wasn’t speaking to his father as much, that he was living in a small house that his family owned, and that he was trying to cover the rest of his expenses himself with his work-- and that sometimes Ferdinand found it difficult. 

At that, Edelgard pursed her lips. “You have a portfolio, I take it?”

“Of course! I have a few different ones suited to different occasions.” 

“Do you have a wedding photography portfolio, by any chance?”

Ferdinand pulled out his phone and fiddled with it before handing it to Edelgard. “Here you go.”

She was quiet, scrolling down the phone with her index finger. “Ferdinand, these are…”

He tensed, and Hubert’s eyebrows knit together. 

“I realise they’re a bit--”

“Ferdinand, no, they’re actually really lovely.” She smiled at him genuinely, manicured fingernail paused over the screen. She showed him a particular picture. “The composition of this one is absolutely gorgeous. And the poses!” 

Ferdinand stood to watch over her shoulder, folding the blanket in his arms. He was practically bouncing from the praise, and they chatted about this bride, and that groom, and which bridesmaids had been difficult. 

“Ferdinand, I have a question for you.” 

“Of course! Ask away.” 

Edelgard smiled, handing him his phone back. “We often get asked by customers about other services they need. Sometimes it’s catering, sometimes photography. Would it be alright if I referred people to you when they’re looking for someone to take wedding photos?” 

He positively beamed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Absolutely! It’d be an honour!” 

Linhardt groaned from the table in protest at the noise.

“Oops. Sorry again.” Linhardt shifted a little bit as Hubert smiled into his coffee. Ferdinand’s expression was so bright it would’ve hurt to look at before, but Hubert was becoming used to the view. 

“Another thing, are you busy on February 19th?”

“Probably not, but I can check my calendar to be sure.”

“Ferdinand, would you be able to photograph my wedding?”

Ferdinand started shouting in his excitement after that, and Linhardt’s nap was thoroughly ruined. Hubert had to leave the room before they saw him laughing, god forbid. 

* * *

Alstroemeria is a member of the lily family, and is also known as the Peruvian lily, or lily of the Incas. It’s native to South America, and looks a lot like an Asiatic lily, except much smaller. It has delicate petals with small spots that come in a wide variety of colours, and there are hundreds of different species native to specific areas, including Chile, Brazil, Paraguay, and some naturalised as far as New Zealand. 

Though alstros have one meaning that is shared between all of the flowers in the family regardless of colour, the colour of alstroemeria can do a lot to determine a different meaning, in a way similar to roses. Pink and red alstroemerias show affection, orange determination and hard work. Yellow, blue and white all have similar meanings-- expressing concern for someone who’s not feeling well. 

As such, it shouldn’t have surprised Hubert that Ferdinand was delivering the flowers to someone who wasn’t feeling well. 

What did surprise him, however, was that the person in question was Edelgard’s father, Ionius, who’d been in the hospital for years. When Edelgard had told him, his thin eyebrows had practically shot up into his hairline. Hubert visited him less often than Ferdinand had ordered that same bouquet, and he would’ve felt guilty about it if he hadn’t been spending that time looking out for Ionius’s daughter instead. 

The big thing that bothered him was why. Whether there was something Ferdinand knew that he didn’t.

It would be easy to ask Ferdinand, but it could also be easy for Ferdinand to lie. This would trouble most people-- but Hubert wasn’t most people, and could spot deception a mile away. So the plan became ask, and ye shall receive. 

He didn’t have to wait very long after the rainstorm for Ferdinand to come by with a tray of hot drinks-- one for himself, a London fog for Edelgard, and a black coffee for Hubert. He brought with him sunshine and a crisp breeze from outside, as well as a maple leaf caught in his red hair. 

Hubert was almost surprised the sunflowers didn’t point in his direction the second he walked in.

He pointed the leaf out to Ferdinand, but ended up picking it out of his hair himself. He tried to touch as few of the red tresses as possible, lest he become emotionally compromised and unable to complete his intended questioning. He was finding that that was a problem with Ferdinand. 

That said, the coffee might have had that effect instead. Damn was it good, and Hubert indulged himself in two sips of the hot drink one after the other, closing his eyes as the warmth reached his stomach. 

Hubert delivered Edelgard’s cup himself as she argued on the phone with someone about catering prices, backing away quietly after making sure she saw the drink in front of her. She was hard to pin down lately, 

“So I see you didn’t catch pneumonia, then. Colour me disappointed.” Hubert brought his coffee to his lips with a hint of a smile. 

“And all thanks to all of you, and my luck at being close by.” Ferdinand smiled, and his pale eyelashes caught the sunlight as he held his drink up in a small toast before taking a sip. 

“That said, there was no need to bribe us with drinks.” Hubert took another long sip, and took a look at the cup to see where it was from. Damn Ferdinand. Damn him and his delicious coffee. His eyebrows knit themselves together. 

“Yes, but they certainly can’t hurt in winning you over!” Ferdinand tossed his hair behind his shoulder with his free hand, and Hubert watched the waves drape themselves over the shoulders of Ferdinand’s jacket. “That is, assuming you like the coffee?” The optimism on his face was slightly cracked. 

“It’s fantastic. I hate it.”

Ferdinand laughed at that, and moved up to the front counter, standing beside Hubert and watching people walk by the front of the shop. 

The only other customer paid for an arrangement and left, Hubert sparing her a smile-- the width of which was very deliberately measured-- as well as her change, handing it to her before she left the shop with the ring of the doorbell. 

As soon as she left, Hubert’s smile dropped and he turned to Ferdinand, reaching past him to bring his fist down onto the table with a soft thud. “So.”

He could’ve sworn Ferdie started sweating at that point-- his eyes were wide and his mouth was screwed up in a cracked impression of a smile. “S-so! Yes!”

Hubert lifted his fist, and held it behind his back, taking another sip of his coffee. “I hear you’ve been visiting Edelgard’s father.”

“...Correct.”

“I would like to know why.” 

The sweat on Ferdinand’s face just kept coming. “Is it not enough that we were neighbours?”

Hubert scoffed, setting his cup down on the counter. “No.” He fixed Ferdinand with a look that would cause most to turn tail and run. “No, it’s not.”

“I really don’t see why it’s a big deal!”

“Just answer the question,  _ von Aegir _ .” 

Ferdinand winced. “I meant no harm, I simply felt....” He paused. “I never learned what happened to him to put him in the hospital, but it always felt wrong.”

You didn’t have to be particularly smart to have figured out that much. 

“And I suppose I felt sorry for him. Is that a good enough answer?” Ferdinand’s eyebrows were drawn, and he looked like a sad puppy. Damn him, Hubert almost wanted to give up when he saw that face. It was becoming a terrible liability. 

But it didn’t seem quite like the entire truth-- and on top of that, as compromised as he found himself, Ferdinand was not a great liar. “We’re  _ almost _ there.”

Ferdinand grimaced and looked around to make sure they were alone. “If you want the truth, it’s that I suppose I felt a little guilty.”

Hubert bristled, and his voice was sharp as he spoke. “Go on.” 

All at once Ferdinand drew himself up and faced Hubert with seriousness. “I’m not about to sit here and accuse people of attempted murder. But when I think about who had the most to gain from Edelgard’s father’s sickness, I think of my own father. I’m not blind.” He looked Hubert directly in the eyes. “I wouldn’t talk about this at all, except I think you probably understand how I feel.” 

Hubert had to admit that he absolutely did, and it struck him in that moment how strange but possibly even nice that felt-- that someone else shared that burden. He tried to shake it out of his head, but the warm feeling was lodged in at an angle and wouldn’t come loose. 

“Alright, I’m satisfied.” He picked his coffee back up, nursing it.

Ferdinand’s face didn’t settle right away, and he took his drink to his mouth in irritation, pausing before taking a sip. “I… I’m not. I think I’m getting a little worked up.” Hubert watched as he practically chugged the rest of the hot tea. “Give me a second.” 

“Take your time.” Hubert tapped his foot lightly, watching the pink of Ferdinand’s cheeks slowly fade. A shame, it had been a pretty colour on him, even if it did clash a bit with his hair. 

A deep breath, and Ferdinand’s normal posture resumed, a sheepish smile returning to his face. “To think I just came here to bring you coffee.” He laughed softly.

Pardon? “You came here just for that?”

“I… I suppose... Yes I did.” He looked as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The pink was back, dusting his cheeks and nose. How lovely. Hubert’s own heart was also beating just a little bit faster than he deemed necessary at the small admission. “A-as thanks, I mean. For the other day.” 

“Ah.”

An awkward silence. 

“Hubert?”

“Mmm.” He hummed into his coffee cup only to find it terribly empty. 

“Would you like to see some of my work?” Ferdinand tried and failed to sound nonchalant.

Hubert’s brows furrowed. “...You want to show me pictures from random people’s weddings.” 

“No! No.” Ferdinand fiddled with his bangs, combing through them with his fingers. “I do other kinds of photography as well.” 

Hubert’s expression must’ve conveyed some kind of meaning, because Ferdinand turned bright red. 

“Still-life, I mean! Nothing odd, I promise.” 

“....Alright, sure.”

Ferdinand’s hand moved from his hair to his face, attempting to cover the bright colour spreading to his ears. “This is not how I wanted this conversation to go.” 

Hubert let himself smile then. “I don’t know, I’m having quite a bit of fun with it.” 

A groan. “I’d like to start over, please.”

“Whatever you’d like.” 

Three seconds pause, and then Ferdinand’s head snapped up. “Hubert.” 

“That is in fact me.” 

“....Hubert.” He wavered.

“Go on.” Where in the world was Ferdinand going with this?

Another two seconds. 

“Hubert, would you like to come over for dinner?” 

Hubert was glad he didn’t have any coffee left, because he probably would’ve dropped it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience! I was down with carpal tunnel for a little bit and as a result wasn't really able to type. Thanks to the people I had betaread this chapter as well.
> 
> Chapter count has changed from 4 to 6-- just because I ended up having to split this season in half, and will likely end up doing the same thing with winter. Thanks for your patience with this!


	3. Fall Part 2 | Anemone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anemone: Anticipation.

Hubert sighed, putting his phone face down on the back table of Edelweiss with a little more force than was warranted. He glared at it, green eyes practically searing small burns into the dark leather of the case. It was situated between leaf clippings and stems that Hubert had dutifully trimmed away while chiseling a refined bouquet where only a mishmash of cut flowers had once existed. 

Damn Ferdinand for asking him to dinner. 

Damn Hubert, for saying yes. 

Ferdinand had made himself scarce since asking him to come over, requesting that Hubert text him to let him know when he wasn’t busy. Hubert had been trying to will himself into sending a message letting Ferdinand know that his Friday and Saturday were relatively open. (Which really was a misnomer-- Hubert was always busy even if only in his head, thinking things through in anticipation of their execution.) 

He sighed in defeat, cleaning off the table until only his tools and the phone were left. He would simply have to come back to this issue a little later. So instead he got to work, fussing with an arrangement of bright yellow sunflowers. 

Edelgard watched him from across the table with an unplaceable look on her face. 

“So are you going to stand there observing me in my distress, or are you going to tell me about your meeting with the wedding planner?” 

“Well, I think I’m fairly well equipped to do both at the same time, aren’t I? But no, not quite.” 

Hubert raised an eyebrow at her while gathering some small white filler flowers to slide into the arrangement. “And?”

And then Dorothea Arnault swept her way into the backroom, hair tied loosely back, manicured nails clutching a notebook and a pen. “Good afternoon Hubie!” 

He gave Edelgard a withering look that Dorothea had the wisdom to ignore-- it had to be that, because no one could ever accuse Dorothea of being unobservant. 

“Well, I figured the wedding planner could talk to you herself, since we need to talk to you about arrangements anyway.” Edelgard tipped her head toward Dorothea, who artfully twirled her pen before settling herself daintily on one of the stools around the large preparation table. 

“Alright,” Hubert said, turning his mind to their previous conversations and pulling a notebook out of his dark apron. “I remember what was requested for the bridal bouquet and boutonniere, have you figured out what you need for the table arrangements?” 

Dorothea and Hubert made conversation about everything that Hubert needed to do, both as a florist and as Edelgard’s friend-- despite how dissimilar their personalities were, they both possessed a talent for getting things done when needed. 

There was a sticking point, however. 

“For the last time, I am not speaking.”

“Well if that’s the last time you’re saying no, if I ask you again will you say yes?” Dorothea batted her eyelashes. “It would mean so much to Edelgard.”

His oldest friend tried pleading with him herself. “Please, Hubert. You’ve been far too large a part in my life not to have some part in the speeches.” 

“I’m… not terribly suited to these sorts of things. Please, let me get back to these sunflowers.”

Edelgard and Dorothea begrudgingly left him alone-- no doubt regrouping for a later attack-- then discussed dress shopping while Hubert resumed his work. He arranged the bright yellow blooms and found himself wishing Petra were there that day-- sunflowers were her favourite, and she knew how to dress them best.

Finally, arrangement finished and away for its customer to come along, he returned to the problem at hand while Edelgard and Dorothea continued to chat. 

Picking up his phone instead of staring daggers at it, he opened the chat that held all the photos he’d sent to Ferdinand. 

He covered his face with one hand and groaned. ‘There ready to pick up.’ His last message had been misspelled. Damned autocorrect, likely. 

Maybe he should just take the phone and-- and he realised too late that Dorothea and Edelgard were staring at him, Dorothea wearing the most devilish look on her face that Hubert had ever seen. He wasn’t easily intimidated by any means, but in that moment he feared for his dignity. 

“Hubie… Anything you might need help with?” The wedding planner’s voice was singsong, as if she’d discovered the most delicious secret in the world. Perhaps in her opinion she had. 

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Edelgard shook her head. “Maybe Dorothea would be able to help with your… Ferdinand issue.” 

“Ooooh!” Dorothea leaned most of her body onto the table, almost knocking off a pair of snips. “Hubie, I didn’t realise you swung that way! Or at all, really, now that I think about it.” 

“I would like to retire to a dark confined space now please, Edelgard, if you’ll permit me.”

Edelgard sighed while Dorothea giggled and continued to press him. “It’s way too late for that, Hubie! What’s he like! How can I help!” 

“Here comes Doctor Love,” Edelgard said with a smile, her attention then deflecting to a ringing phone. “Try not to kill him, Dorothea.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Anyway, Hubie, spill.”

“He’s…. Well, he’s very sunny. And… orange. And a pain in the ass.” 

She tapped her chin. “Why Hubie, you sound like you might be head over heels.” 

“I beg your pardon?” His heart leapt. 

“Kidding!” Thank god. “But it sounds like… if sunny is the first word you thought of, that’s quite a contrast, really. Opposites attract?”

“It… it seems so, yes.” He shook his head. “Pardon me, but this conversation is about as enjoyable as swallowing glass. So,” a sigh, “could you just help me send this text message?”

Dorothea clasped her hands together. “Oh! Sure. What’s the situation.”

“He’s…” Hubert’s eyebrows knit themselves together. “I am trying to tell him that I’m free on Friday or Saturday so we can have our….”

“Our…?” Dorothea grinned. 

“....I detest you. Our dinner date. That is, if he’s free as well.” 

“Well, it sounds like you know just what to say.” 

“I actually have the message drafted, I’m just…. Unsatisfied with it.” 

“Can I see what you have written?” Dorothea held out her hand. 

“...I don’t see why not.” Hubert scrolled to hide the misspelled last message (an embarrassment), and then handed her his phone. 

“Hm… looks good to me!” 

And then he watched her hit send.

He was dumbfounded, and nearly snapped at her until Dorothea put up one finger. “Oh wow, he’s typing! That was fast.” 

That shut Hubert up quickly, and set him to pacing across the floor. He pulled his fingers through his long bangs, tugging at them in his anxiety.

“He replied! It’s--”

Hubert was above her shoulder before she finished her sentence, and heaved a sigh of relief. 

_ Friday would be perfect! I’ll send you the address later. Looking forward to it!! _

Oh. He was looking forward to it. Hubert felt his face warm and that familiar feeling that only Ferdinand seemed able to plant in his chest bloomed inside of him again. 

“Oh wow, I didn’t even know you were capable of blushing.” Dorothea looked over her shoulder in amazement. 

“It’s…” Hubert dragged a hand down his face and sighed. “It’s a new development.” 

* * *

It was raining. Hubert took that as a good sign. 

Most people hated rain, but for Hubert it provided a nice kind of calm-- not only did it superficially match his aesthetic, but as a child it had meant one fewer day watering the flowers, one more morning in bed, one more day he could spend caring for Edelgard. 

The thought of their rainy days made him smile to himself as he drove his black car through residential streets, making his way to Ferdinand’s house. 

The sound of Miles Davis’s trumpet accompanied his thoughts as he turned onto Ferdinand’s block-- the music and the rain matched as well, brushes on the ride symbol echoing the raindrops being swept away from his windshield. 

Hubert slowed down, looking at the numbers on the houses until he found the right place, a small but very nice pale blue house with a picket fence on the side. A wreath of artificial autumn leaves had been placed on the red front door, and a few buckets of mums were sitting on the steps in hues of purple and red. It was a perfect picture of a house in the fall. 

He parked in the driveway and, picking up the bundle in the passenger seat, stepped past a pair of hedges whose leaves had gone bright red and were beginning to fall as well as a broad window up the steps. He stopped to admire the flowers, removing one glove to press his fingers gently into the soil to check if they'd been watered and then moving the pots a little further out into the rain. They could use it, though they hadn’t started to show signs of neglect quite yet. 

And then he stopped in a mixture of confusion and amusement. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing from inside, but it sounded like... singing? A smirk appeared on his face as he turned and rang the doorbell. 

The voice was muffled, but Hubert could make out the words quite clearly. 

“... TASTE OF YOUR LIPS I’M ON A- oh dear, JUST A MINUTE!” 

He stepped back to watch through the windows and saw Ferdinand leap into what looked like the living room to turn off a record player, red hair trailing behind him-- apparently he’d been playing whatever it had been on vinyl. Hubert then watched him catapult himself into the area behind the door, opening it a few seconds later after he’d presumably caught his breath. 

“Hubert! Welcome! You’re early!” 

Hubert pulled the bouquet of anemones out from behind his back. “I usually am. I’ve been told it’s impolite, but it’s a habit I haven’t been able to break.” 

Ferdinand practically swooned at the bouquet, bright eyes widening in happiness. “You didn’t have to!”

“Why yes, I believe I did. You have a vase, I presume?” 

“Of course! Of course, come inside!” 

He shuffled indoors, kicking off his shoes and lining them up at the door before taking in the sight of the entranceway. 

It was warm, the floor made of honey coloured hardwood and photos upon photos lining the walls. Photos of Ferdinand’s little sisters that Hubert recognised by their freckles and red hair. A picture of Ferdinand with a big happy dog that didn’t match the quality of the others was the only picture the owner of the house himself was in. 

“I thought you had a dog, Ferdinand.” 

Ferdinand poked his head around the corner, smiling. “Bishop’s staying with a friend. I thought it’d be better if you didn’t have a dog drooling in your lap the whole time.” 

Hubert nodded. “I… Admittedly prefer this option to getting drool all over my pants.” 

He sniffed. Hmm. “I think I smell something burning.”

Ferdinand looked like he wanted to curse, but restrained himself in favour of running back into the kitchen. The clang of a pan, and a loud sigh as the smoke alarm went off. “Hubert,” he could hear Ferdinand call.

“Are we figuring out something else?”

“We’re figuring out something else, unfortunately, yes.” He turned the corner to see Ferdinand discarding a pair of oven mitts that matched the red plaid apron he was wearing. His eyebrows were furrowed at what had probably been some kind of roast and potatoes, now dressed in their funeral blacks. 

What would usually be an annoyance brought out some kind of amusement in Hubert, and not in the normal way-- he found himself admiring Ferdinand’s pout, and smiled in response. 

“I don’t see what enjoyment you seem to be getting out of this, but I’m glad you seem to be happy in any case. I was quite looking forward to you eating my cooking.” The pout grew, and Hubert found that though it was cute, he quite disliked being the cause of it. 

“I only… I apologise. What would you like to do?” Hubert crossed his arms, tapping his chin with his finger.

“I… Hm.” Ferdinand leaned back against his counter, surveying the damage before reaching behind him to open a window positioned above the kitchen sink. “We could order in, or we could go get more ingredients. I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

“I suppose it depends on whether you would accept a sous chef.” Hubert reached for the vase Ferdinand had already prepared on the kitchen table, moving past Ferdinand to the sink, filling it with water and a packet of plant food he’d stashed in his pocket. “I’d like to help you cook, if that’s alright.” He turned his head to look at Ferdinand, finding their shoulders almost touching. 

He paused and watched Ferdinand hesitate, and found that he’d become unable to breathe. He was close enough to count the freckles on his face. The moment lasted only a second though, as Ferdinand’s eyes flickered to the sink. “Hubert! The water!”

He looked down and found the vase had overflowed in his hands. “Shit.”

Hubert poured half the water out and then measured the anemones against the vase, finding with relief that he wouldn’t have to trim the stems-- attempting and failing to distract himself from Ferdinand blushing in the corner of the room. 

“I’d be honoured to have your help cooking,” Ferdinand finally said. “As long as you let me drive to the store.” 

“As long as you let _ me _,” Hubert responded, “pick the music.” 

Ferdinand was a remarkably good driver, and handled his car-- her name was Buttercup he had been assured, a name that matched her soft yellow colour-- with a remarkable amount of care, taking the corners slowly. Hubert was relieved he did, as Buttercup was a vintage sedan that Hubert could tell had come from Ferdinand’s days living off of his parents’ wealth. Probably from the 70’s, but remarkably well restored. 

Hubert fiddled with radio stations most of the way there, as he found Ferdinand’s car remarkably ill equipped-- there was no auxiliary input, no CD player, no tape player. 

Ferdinand’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he pulled away from a stop sign. “Could you please pick a channel?” He was trying hard to be civil about it, which Hubert appreciated. 

“I would, if any of these radio hosts knew how to speak like a normal goddamned person.” 

“Hmm.” Ferdinand’s fingers drummed in suppressed irritation until he swiftly turned off the radio in one movement. 

“I beg your pard-”

Ferdinand didn’t let Hubert finish his sentence. “Is this a date?”

“I brought you flowers, Ferdinand.”

“You’re a florist, for all I know you bring everyone flowers!” The blush on Ferdinand’s face extended to his ears and down his neck. “Please… please just answer the question.”

“...I.” Hubert covered his face with one hand. “I considered it to be a date, yes. If I’m mistaken, then I--”

“Oh thank _ heavens _. I was worried I hadn’t been clear enough.” Ferdinand let out a breath that it seemed he had been holding, suddenly sagging in his seat before straightening back up to take another turn. 

Hubert reached out hesitantly and put his hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder, feeling him tense under him and then consciously relax under his touch. God, Hubert wished he wasn’t wearing his gloves, that red hair was so close. 

But then they arrived at the store, and Ferdinand laughed awkwardly, undoing his seatbelt while Hubert did the same. 

Hubert leaned on the cart as they shopped, grabbing new ingredients for a dish of Ferdinand’s choosing, Hubert interjecting when there was a cheaper alternative that would work just as well. It seemed that Ferdinand was rather unused to shopping on any kind of budget. 

“I’ve always thought that the less expensive versions were always worse.”

Hubert stood up straight, comparing two packages of bouillon in his hands. “Well, it depends on the item. There are some where you absolutely get what you pay for.” He placed one package in the cart, putting the other one back on the shelf and pushing a small section of the display back into order before moving on. “For example, never buy cheap dish soap. It does a horrendous job.”

“Hmm. Noted. It’s… it is not very intuitive, is it.”

“Practice makes perfect, you’ll get the hang of it eventually if you’re trying new things.” 

Ferdinand paused, pursing his lips. 

“I feel… very well taken care of, in this moment.” He laughed softly, more a huff than the chime Hubert was used to. “You’re really quite dependable, aren’t you?”

He smiled, despite himself. “I like to think so. I’ve had quite a bit of practice.”

Ferdinand saw his smile and tilted his head, returning it. “I’m sure! You’ve had your fair share of experience with Edelgard, I daresay. I remember seeing you pick her up from her violin lessons every week. You even learned the piano to accompany her.”

“How do you know I didn't simply already know the piano?”

“Well, did you?” He walked beside Hubert as they approached the checkout.

“...You’ve caught me.” 

“I suppose I envied her a little bit.” Ferdinand combed his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, and Hubert found himself wishing he was the glove on his hand. “I was always taken care of by… staff, I guess you could call them. None of them seemed as dedicated to my happiness as you did with Edelgard.” They chose a till, and Hubert began to place items on the belt in an orderly fashion, sorting by item type. “To be honest, until I’d heard about Byleth, I had thought there was possibly something between the two of you.”

Hubert nodded. “I get that a lot. It’s a different kind of dedication. She’s more like... “ He chose his words. “I wouldn’t dare presume to call us family, but she does feel like a cherished younger sister to me.” 

“I… I’m relieved.” Ferdinand’s face flushed, a smile blooming across it, and Hubert blushed under Ferdinand’s gaze. He was starting to get used to the warmth on his face that only Ferdinand seemed to be able to draw out. 

The cashier displayed the unmistakable demeanor of a service worker who had stayed past when they were really willing, dark hair sloppily tied back as he skillfully scanned and bagged their items without making much conversation besides directing him to pay. Hubert insisted on paying for half, lest he feel like he was freeloading. 

The cashier then helped load the bags into their cart and told them to have a pleasant evening, which Hubert thought was perhaps cashier code for “fuck off.” Hubert knew the feeling, and merely smiled as they walked back to see Buttercup, Ferdinand looking ever so slightly scandalised. 

Hubert declined to fiddle with the radio on the way home, instead steeling himself and placing the same hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder as they quietly returned to Ferdinand’s without much in the way of conversation. 

He could feel Ferdinand’s warmth through his glove and chose to rest his other hand on his own cheek, closing his eyes for the duration of the drive and comfortingly feeling Ferdinand’s shoulder shift under his fingers at each turn. 

The car slowed and turned off with the jingle of keys, Ferdinand laying his hand over Hubert’s on his shoulder and resting it there for a few seconds before the two of them moved to get out of the car, both grabbing some of the groceries from the back seat. 

Walking back into the house, Hubert finally slid off his long grey jacket and gloves, stowing them inside the pocket and stashing them on a hook by the door that Ferdinand had said was okay. 

Ferdinand paused when he did this, and Hubert raised an eyebrow at him. 

He raised a hand to wave the questioning look away, face flushing ever so slightly. “Oh! It’s nothing, I just can’t remember the last time I saw you without gloves.” 

Hubert glanced down at his pale fingers, then held them up. “To be quite honest, I feel ever so slightly naked without them. I’ve become very used to wearing them.” 

“Oh! I’m sure.” And then Ferdinand popped back around the corner to put the groceries away. 

Hubert came around the corner and picked up the apron Ferdinand had discarded, placing it on the counter beside his host, who had finished arranging the ingredients and was now facing the cupboards, putting his weight on the countertop. He pulled away to wrap the apron around himself, tying it behind his waist. “Would you like one too? I have another apron.”

“Yes please, if you don’t mind.” 

Ferdinand pulled a green plaid apron, very similar to the one he was wearing, off of a hook on the pantry door, holding it out for Hubert to take. Hubert simply ducked his head, and waited a moment before Ferdinand slipped it over and onto his neck, hands hesitating on his shoulders. 

Both of them seemed to forget how to breathe in that moment. Or maybe it was a minute. Or maybe an hour. 

Ferdinand smiled and tore himself away, leaving Hubert to tie the apron around his waist while Ferdinand preheated the oven. 

Hubert let Ferdinand take charge, only doing prep work when Ferdinand asked him to slice or cube various vegetables, staying out of his way. 

Ferdinand chattered as he worked, about how the last week had been, about his dog, about his car, about Edelgard’s wedding. Hubert did his best to respond, but mostly supplied hums and small interjections. Ferdinand didn’t seem to mind, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm. 

Ferdinand placed a dish in the oven, and Hubert settled himself at the dining room table while Ferdinand set himself what looked like multiple alarms on his phone, oven, and microwave.

“Hubert, I told you I wanted to show you my work, right?”

He crossed his legs in his chair. “Mm. Still-life, not anything weird, correct?”

“Well- yes. Not anything... weird. Would you like to see what I’ve been working on?”

“I’ll admit, you’ve made me quite curious. Sure.”

Ferdinand moved and retrieved what looked like an oversized folder from another room, cradling it in his arms. “Admittedly, this feels strange. I told myself I’d show you these at some point, but it still feels surreal.” 

“What about it could be--” 

And then Ferdinand opened the folder and slid it in front of Hubert, and his confusion overtook him. 

Pictures of blooms, from warm arrangements placed on tables in sunny summer light, to lone boutonnieres placed amidst what looked like other discarded items to create a story of an evening winding down. 

Pages upon pages of white alstroemerias, seen in different colours of light. The ones practically glowing in moonlight caught Hubert’s eyes for longer than most, but he devoured the pictures page upon page.

Ferdinand’s work was _ his _work. 

“Please, say something.” 

Hubert stood abruptly, contemplating what to do, what to say. “I-”

“I’m sorr-”

“Thank you. Ferdinand. It’s an honour.”

Ferdinand looked a little bit like he was going to faint, but looked at Hubert instead, his face shifting to an expression of joy. “You like them?”

“I… yes. Truly.” 

Though he’d just been shown picture upon picture of beautiful flowers, he couldn’t deny the loveliest thing in the room was the soft pink blooming across Ferdinand’s face in his happiness.

It was okay, right? It would be okay if Hubert just… 

He reached out and put a hand on Ferdinand’s waist gently, feeling his own face go pink as he tried and failed to will himself to look at anything that wasn’t the man in front of him. 

He failed to draw himself away from the blush spreading through his freckles. He failed to keep himself from admiring those eyes, focused entirely on him. 

He failed to keep himself from drawing him further forward, tipping his face up with the hand not on Ferdinand’s waist, and he could feel Ferdinand’s body swaying, as if it was pulled toward Hubert by some kind of magnetism. 

It was impossible to tell who leaned forward first, clumsily bumping noses. Their lips brushed against each other before meeting like old friends, as if they’d been doing this for years. 

It only lasted a second or two before Ferdinand pulled away. “Hubert…”

“I’m sorry, if that was undesired, I… I’m so sorry, Ferdinand…”

“Hubert, please be _ quiet _. it was great, I just… I just think I need to sit down.” 

Ferdinand sat, and Hubert kneeled beside him and smiled the widest he had in perhaps years. 

* * *

“So what happened next, Hubie!” Dorothea and Edelgard crowded around him while Petra and Linhardt worked at the table. 

“Edelgard, I am begging you. I feel I have shared quite enough.” He could feel himself turning pink, and prayed his friend would take pity on him. 

“Hubert, on one condition. I’m going to ask something of you, and you have to say yes.”

He took the gamble. “Anything. Yes.”

“Dorothea, leave him be. For me, if for no other reason.”

“But-!

“Please?” Edelgard’s face was warm on the outside but it had a warning in it. A warning that there was a line Dorothea shouldn’t cross. 

Dorothea seemed to see that warning too, because she gathered her things, placing them inside her purse before bidding them all a dramatic “Adieu!”

Edelgard crossed her arms, and it seemed that that warning hadn’t left. That it was now directed against Hubert. 

Petra and Linhardt took one look at her and at each other, and moved out of the room quietly, Linhardt turning to give a silent shrug to a dismayed Hubert.

“Please Edelgard, I hope you do not intend to interrogate me in solitary.”

“I have no such intention, don’t worry, though I do aim to collect on that promise you just made.”

Hubert heard a waver in her voice, and was struck with instant concern. The tone in her voice made him quite certain there was something wrong. Perhaps she’d been like that this whole time, and he’d been too wrapped up in his own story to notice. The thought made him nauseous. 

“Hubert, I have bad news.”

Hubert stiffened at her tone. It confirmed his suspicions. “Edelgard, is everything alright? Is there anything I can do?”

“Everything is… as expected, I suppose. And there is something you can do.”

She sighed, and in that moment looked ten years older than she was. 

“Hubert, my father is dying. Or at least, his condition has taken a turn. He won’t be able to come to my wedding.” 

“Goodness, Edelgard, I am so incredibly sorry. If there is anything I can do to assist you, rest assured I’ll do it.”

“There is, Hubert. And I don’t want you to argue about it like I know you’ll want to.”

“I… I promise.”

“Hubert, would you walk me down the aisle?”

“I… Edelgard.” He could see the trace of a tear in one of her eyes. 

“Please, Hubert. Just say yes.”

“Edelgard.”

“Please. Hubert, you’re the closest thing to actual family I’ll have left.”

“Yes. I’ll do it.”

And he held out his arms, gathering her into a hug so he wouldn’t see her face. He did this because he knew from her childhood that she hated people seeing her cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are not immune to jazz Hubert propaganda.


	4. Winter Part 1 | Azalea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea: Fragility. 

Ferdinand made a habit of coming around even more often after that first date, either to drop off the dark roast coffee that Hubert liked or just to chat even when he didn’t have business-- though the business also stayed as consistent as before. He was around two or three times a week, planting (oh so daring) kisses on Hubert’s cheek as he did so. 

“You know, I do actually use the flowers for their intended purposes. They do get put on display.” 

“Mmm.” Hubert hummed into his coffee. “You always manage to make it sound so…. Suspicious.”

“Hubert, please! I just photograph them first, is all. All the alstroemerias really do go to Edelgard’s father.”

“Oh I know. Edelgard tells me whenever a new arrangement pops up.” 

“Mmm.” Ferdinand sipped his tea, turning to look out the window at the fine dust of snow that was beginning to fall on top of the fluffy white already present. The chill of winter had descended upon the city a few weeks early that year, leaving evergreen boughs laden with the kind of heavy wet snow you get before the worst of the season comes. 

It left Ferdinand’s ears, cheeks, and nose bright red from the cold, and Hubert couldn’t resist the temptation to poke the rosy tip of Ferdinand’s nose as he pulled the most unnecessary of his winter accessories off. The resulting pout made it even more worth the trouble. 

“May I place my things in the back quickly? I thought I might stay here for a little while and do a bit of editing.”

Hubert glanced at the backpack slung over Ferdinand’s shoulders and nodded. “Just make sure you don’t get in anyone’s way or I will have to forcibly remove you.”

That bell-like laugh rang out as Ferdinand made his way to the back, where Edelgard and Petra were working quietly. He called behind him as he carried his things. “I would like to see you and your skinny arms try! I am much stronger than many give me credit for, Hubert!” 

Hubert felt himself scowl as Ferdinand greeted Edelgard and Petra warmly in the back room. Instead of listening in, he moved to finish dusting the shelf he’d been dealing with when Ferdinand walked in, and then watered the few azalea plants he had been nursing back to health-- they’d been delivered half-wilted, but perked up when watered consistently. 

Edelgard came out with a heavily marked whiteboard and a stack of paper that meant she was working on seating arrangements. It was one of the few pieces of the wedding preparations he had not touched. Though, if Edelgard seemed particularly stressed over it or failed to complete it in the next few days, she’d likely find a finished draft drawn up for her convenience in Hubert’s scrawl. 

“I’m sure you’d rather be in the back right now, Hubert. I can handle things in the front.” Edelgard gave him a sly look. 

“Why yes, I do have an inordinate amount of poinsettias to deal with. Thank you for noticing.” His voice was thick with sarcasm-- their poinsettias came to them still planted so that no arranging was necessary, only the tasteful application of ribbon and protective wrap to keep them safe from cold. This was usually done when they were about to be taken outside, not when they were to sit in the florists’ for heaven knows how many more days. 

The truth is, though it was technically a busier season, they had more than enough hands to deal with the work. Part of it was the insistence of Edelgard on cutting a few hardly-noticed corners this time of year so everyone could spend that precious time with the people they cared about during the holidays. 

“Hubert, I’m sure Ferdinand would enjoy your company.”

“He sure seems to have given us all that impression, hasn’t he? I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

Edelgard’s face softened, eyebrows pulling together at his faintly self-deprecating comment. She placed her materials on the desk, sitting at the stool behind it and gesturing at him to shoo. 

“Fine, fine.” He raised his gloved hands in defeat, rolling his eyes. 

“Go spend time with your… Ferdinand.” She smiled.

He smiled, but a piece inside of him pulled out of place. As much as they liked each other, he knew what Edelgard was referring to with that.

They were quite obviously dating, but that extra piece of terminology had been glossed over and the question Hubert had found himself agonising over was quite simply, what were they? And if Hubert asked, would Ferdinand willingly attach himself to him as a partner or boyfriend? 

He knew how Ferdinand would answer. A chiding remark and a statement that they’d been acting like partners all this time-- how would just using the word scare him off? But somehow that didn’t make it easier, and he cursed himself and his level of self-esteem as he moved to the back. 

Ferdinand was set up with a laptop in the far corner of the large workspace while Petra’s area, always neat and tidy, was being cleared. 

“It has been suggested by the powers that be that I come back here and make sure you don’t cause any trouble, Ferdinand.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” He smiled without looking up from his work. “I think you’ll find I can maintain good behaviour rather well.”

“Yes, rather like a certain Bishop we both know.” 

“Either you are paying my dog a great compliment or intending a slight at me, but either way you lose. I already know you have a soft spot for him, and any comparisons between me and my dog are welcomed. He possesses a far better soul than I do.” 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He’s sorry about eating your socks, I swear!”

He watched Petra smile at their antics, giving Hubert a soft look which he returned, if only in his own small way. 

Hubert smiled more these days and it wasn’t entirely due to the arrival of cold weather, though winter had always been his favourite time of year. 

“Hubert, is Ferdinand coming to the party?” Petra asked with a smile. 

“I don’t know. Let’s ask him. Ferdinand, are you coming to the party?”

“What party!” His face lit up. 

Petra clasped her hands together. “It is being a party for the holidays! We have it each year. It is very much fun! I think you should be being there.” And then she said what Hubert wished she hadn’t tacked on. “Every time when people are having boyfriends or partners we try to invite them, so I think you should be coming.” 

He could practically  _ feel _ Ferdinand stiffen, though the bright smile was doing its best to stay on his face. “Well then, I think the answer is up to Hubert as to whether it’s… appropriate for me to be there.” 

Both faces turned on him, Petra’s genuine and inquisitive, Ferdinand’s strained and flushed despite the facade he was attempting to maintain. Hubert felt himself turn bright red in return. Oh, how he was beginning to despise it when his body betrayed him like this. 

“I.” He swallowed, attempting to quell the cracks in his voice. “I would very much like it if Ferdinand would attend as my… partner. Or boyfriend. Or whatever he prefers.”

All the tension in the room-- as well as in Hubert’s shoulders-- was gone as Ferdinand smiled. “I think boyfriend sounds lovely.”

Petra’s mouth opened in surprise as she realised what she had just witnessed. “Oh! You had not had been having this conversation previously! I apologise for any awkwardness.” 

Ferdinand laughed. “No, thank you for the kick in the behind.”

“The… behind?”

Hubert replied. “It means, ‘thank you for prompting us to do something we have needed to do for a while.’” He said it while maintaining eye contact with Ferdinand, who turned red under his gaze. 

Hubert relished his power to affect the world around him, thanking god or whoever was up there or perhaps an empty heaven that he could practically see Ferdinand’s cheeks blossom pink whenever he wanted. It was a very tempting power to abuse, but it helped that Ferdinand took things in stride. 

“I am glad to have been of assistance.” Petra’s face softened, and she moved to put on her scarf before her jacket-- Petra’s particular brand of winter fashion included dressing herself up as a large overheating marshmallow, and this was but the first step of many. She had the afternoon off, and it was about time for her to head out for the day. 

A hat went on. “Oh, but Hubert! You must be telling Ferdinand about our competition.” A pair of thin gloves on small hands that would soon be covered with thicker woolen mittens. 

He saw Ferdinand’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s this about a competition, Hubert?” He turned his entire body to face Hubert. “I love a good contest!”

“Each year we are competing to see who is wearing the sweater with the most ugliness!” 

“And,” Hubert smiled like a cat, “I will give you one guess as to who always wins.”

Ferdinand faced him with his entire body, posture betraying his unbridled enthusiasm while he grinned. “Ah, but not for long! Not for long, Hubert!” 

Petra laughed and then paused, looking at her thickly covered hands in frustration. “Could someone be... I am sorry, the wording I believe is ‘zipping me up’?”   


* * *

The designer and seamstress of Edelgard’s wedding dress was a small and incredibly timid girl named Bernadetta von Varley, who seemed to be working on the exact opposite side of Edelgard from Hubert entirely on purpose. 

Hubert cut an imposing figure and he was fully aware of that, so he attempted to speak softly and gently for her sake. He could see Edelgard trying not to laugh at him while he spoke in quiet, slow tones like one would to a small child. 

The stitchwork on the dress was truly incredible, and this would be the first of a few fittings before it would be worn for the ceremony. There were whorls of glossy white thread that spun up from the bottom of the skirt, floating in a fine filigree that floated around Edelgard’s ankles. 

Smiling, Bernadetta stepped back and crouched. “Go on, take a spin! I’m sure you want to! Bernie sure would, in a skirt like that.” 

Edelgard’s turn was reserved, but she smiled as the pearly embroidery glimmered under the spotlights of the dress shop’s small stage. Hubert smiled with her-- the dress suited her to a tee, with its three-quarter sleeves and high collar, thick fabric falling in pristine dramatic pleats around from her hips. 

“I admit, I feel… like a princess, yes, but not an overly-girly, delicate one.” Edelgard smiled at Hubert, and then turned to Bernadetta. “Like something more regal. It feels very dignified.” 

“The dress suits the wearer.” Hubert nodded, attempting to give Bernadetta a smile which she shakily returned. 

“I did my best to make it suit your personality!” She moved to fiddle with the sleeves, making small adjustments. 

“Edelgard, while I have you as a captive audience, I would like to ask you for assistance in a matter of… taste, I suppose you could call it.”

She lifted her arms while Bernadetta measured the length of the sleeve with a tape measure. “Of course! It’s rare I get to give you advice on anything, Hubert. I’m all ears.” 

“It’s about… a Christmas present.”

“Oh?” Edelgard’s eyebrows raised. “You’re usually done with all of that much earlier than this.” Hubert famously was usually done his shopping by Halloween, but there had been a small kink in that usually solid routine-- one with red hair and brown eyes that liked to bring him coffee, usually on Wednesdays. 

“Yes, but I didn’t account for… for having a boyfriend.” He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, trying to iron out the crinkle that had developed between them in this moment of frustration. 

“Ah, so it’s for Ferdinand. And good for you, I’m glad to hear you two sorted that out.” 

“I’m finding myself at a loss-- what do you get for a significant other of a short time that seems to have everything?”

She tilted her head. “Get him something horse related maybe, he loves them.” 

“Edelgard, I am hardly equipped to buy the man a  _ pony _ .” 

“If I-” Bernadetta stammered. “If I can offer a suggestion?”

Hubert blinked, softening his voice as much as he could. “Please, by all means.” 

“When I’m trying to find a gift for someone, I always tell myself,” she propped her fists on her hips, examining her own work on Edelgard’s frame. “Bernie, you have to do something that shows that you care, and that you actually tried.” She smiled at Hubert, and the trace of fear was still there but tempered by some brand of kindness. “That’s why I try to make things myself for the people I care about. But it could be anything! As long as he can tell you’re doing your best to do something to make him happy.” 

“That’s… vague, but actually does help. Thank you, Bernadetta.” 

She smiled, but definitely didn’t make eye contact. 

Edelgard muttered with a smile. “I’d say a horse qualifies.” She and the seamstress started giggling softly while Hubert rolled his eyes. 

Hubert shook his head with another smile. “This dress really is quite something.” 

Bernadetta scurried to the side of the room quietly while Edelgard examined herself in the three way mirror. “You haven’t seen the best part yet, though.” Bernie smiled and pulled out a garment bag. “We wouldn’t want you to get cold, would we?” She said it as though she was looking for approval.

She got all the approval she needed when she revealed the piece, Edelgard gasping in amazement while Hubert let out a low whistle. 

It was a thick, wide cape, snow-white and lined with the deepest crimson, long enough to act as a train. The outside was embroidered with the same pearly thread, spinning up in waves from the floor as Bernadetta moved to sling it around Edelgard’s shoulders. 

Edelgard’s hands were clasped over her mouth, but failed to mask the width of her smile. 

Bernadetta pinned it to her shoulders where it would be fastened properly with something later, Hubert assumed. “Please tell me you like it.”

“Bernadetta, I absolutely  _ adore  _ it.” And Edelgard stood as tall as she could, sternum held like a songstress onstage at an opera. She looked authoritative, and beautiful, and like the most regal figure Hubert had ever seen. 

Hubert smiled at the look on her face, one of pride and warmth and immense satisfaction. 

“Edelgard, you look positively… Imperial.” 

* * *

After the fitting, Edelgard and Hubert parted ways, her heading back to the shop to make sure everything was going alright with Byleth and Linhardt, who were holding down the fort. Hubert, already on his day off, informed her he had a few errands to run. 

He pulled into the hospital parking lot and, after spending far too much on parking, made his way to the hospital room, finding a nurse in pale blue scrubs changing an IV bag. She looked at him with kind but tired eyes, taking care of her work quickly and quietly. “You can speak with him, if you’d like. A lot of people find it comforting to make peace.” He grimaced at the implication, and watched her smile in sympathy. “At least, I found it helped. He can’t hear a thing.” 

“I… see.” His eyes caught on the arrangement of alstroemeria on the side table, blossoms past their prime and beginning to wilt. And then they fell on the figure on the bed. 

Once imposing, Ionius von Hresvelg looked incredibly frail, chest rising and falling in shallow movements. His skin had a grey pallor, and you could see most of his veins through it. Perhaps it was inappropriate to call him Ionius anymore. This figure was a shadow, or a shell, or a vestige. 

The nurse finished her work and recorded his vitals before giving Hubert one last half smile and stepping out of the room. 

Hubert cleared his throat. 

“Good afternoon. I- Mr. Hresvelg.” He stepped to the side table, grabbing the spent vase of flowers and dumping them in a garbage can. He moved to a nearby sink to wash the vase out with a mixture of water and hand soap, then returned it to the bedside. “Here, for the next time Ferdinand visits you.” 

He sat at a chair that had been artfully positioned next to the bedside and took a deep breath. “I know I don’t visit you often.” A tinge of guilt nibbled at the bottom of his stomach. “The truth is, I’ve been avoiding it. But… Well, you see,I don’t know if I should be irritated with you or if I should thank you.” 

He waited, as if for a response that he knew wouldn’t come. “I know what happened… what was done to you has put you in this state. But at the same time I can’t overlook what… What losing a father did to Edelgard.” Hubert shook his head and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I apologise for the… impertinence, I suppose.

“But here’s the thing. I… I’m not sure if I blame you for your condition. I know I objectively shouldn’t.” A long pause while he thought and gathered himself together. “I shouldn’t be angry with you for what happened. If anyone is to blame it’s Edelgard’s uncle, not you. But you… without you, she suffered. I did what I could to help, but she still suffered.” A deep breath as Hubert collected his thoughts. “I know it’s a lot to bring all this to you after practically ignoring your existence for so long, but I was resentful. And I’m not sure if I can bring myself to apologise.” He balled his fists together, squeezing and then releasing them. 

He looked over at Ionius, grey and wrinkled on the bed and wondered what about him made him so anxious. Or so irritated, for that matter. He stood, and laid his hand on the heart rate monitor. 

“Here’s the funny part though. In a way, I wonder if I shouldn’t thank you instead.” He smiled.

“Caring for Edelgard has been the highest honour of my life. It has given me a direction to go, and a mission for almost as long as I can remember.” He turned to look out the window. “I’ll admit, I didn’t care for the idea of taking on the caretaker mantle my family has held for so long. And then I met  _ her _ .” He watched the snow gently falling and gathering on the roofs of cars below.

“Well regardless, your sickness passed her to me. I’m going to pass her to someone else soon too.” A pause. “Or rather, it’s more accurate to say Edelgard is moving on. She’s getting married. To Byleth.

“I quite like them, and I trust them, but it all leaves one large question in my mind.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying this to the man on the bed as if it would matter to him, but the nurse was right, this was bringing him some comfort. He figured he might as well indulge himself and vent these thoughts while he was at it. Hubert’s voice became uneasy. 

“You see, I don’t quite know where all of this leaves me. Edelgard is officially grown, and has someone she trusts. She can take care of herself now.“ He felt a flush of pride flow through him, followed by a sinking feeling. Up, and then down. 

“I’ve been at this for so long that I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do now. Or where I’ll go from here, but… I feel quite lost if I am being honest.”

Hubert shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back, and the edge of anxiety turned the edges of his voice ragged. “I feel as if I’m heading out to sea with no knowledge of what’s across the ocean. I… Hm. I genuinely do not know what I will do with myself without that responsibility.”

He closed his eyes. His voice now sounded hoarse. “It… it troubles me. Greatly.”

A knock came at the door then, and he turned to find relief in the form of a pair of warm brown eyes, a smile, and a bouquet of white alstroemeria. “Hubert?” 

He breathed in and out. “I’ll be fine.” Hubert lied, as he really had no idea, and smiled. “I take it you heard me talking.” 

Ferdinand sheepishly smiled in return with a nod, caught in the act. “I’ve been in the hallway. I wanted to leave you to yourself, but it seemed like you had an issue that could benefit from a listener who could actually respond.” He handed Hubert the flowers. “Could you hold these for me?”

“Of course.” Hubert sighed and smiled despite himself, though his stomach was still tied in knots. “I take it you have thoughts to share.” 

Ferdinand filled the vase with water as well as the packet of plant food Hubert had given him the day before. “You know, Hubert, I once believed that in order to make any progress in life you had to have things planned out to the minute.” He swirled the water in an attempt to dissolve the powdered chemical in the vase, reaching to Hubert for the flowers. 

He obliged and handed them over. “Go on.”

“Well,” Ferdinand smiled at the arrangement, placing it on the side table, “I found eventually, through a few years of struggling through my own missteps-- which were often caused by plans not going quite the way I wanted-- that sometimes you can manage quite well without a meticulously designed direction.” 

He shrugged. “Simply put, going out of business put me on my… “ Ferdinand glanced down at Ionius, apparently deciding whether he should say what he was about to say. “Well, on my ass.” He paused. “...Pardon the language.” It wasn’t clear who he was saying it to; Hubert, or the unconscious figure in the room with them. 

Hubert found his way back to the chair beside the bed. “You know, I don’t believe you ever told me what kind of business you ran. Pardon me for asking, but I find myself curious.” 

Ferdinand sighed. “I didn’t tell you, no. But I’ll give you one guess.” He smiled wistfully. 

“It was a florist shop, wasn’t it.” Hubert frowned, making an educated guess. “You were attempting to compete with Edelgard.” 

“A very good guess, yes.” Ferdinand’s smile fell until only one corner of his mouth raised in a shell of a smile. “I definitely lost in that battle of wills. Though now, I think I was the only one competing. I’ve learned a lot since then, not just about business but about myself as well.” Ferdinand was pensive then, as if reminiscing. 

But then his expression warmed, and Hubert felt his stomach warm along with it. “And now I have a handsome boyfriend, and a more independent life from my family, and I’ve discovered photography, which I really really enjoy.” 

He reached for Hubert’s hands and Hubert placed them in Ferdinand’s, ears burning slightly at the compliment he’d been paid and consciously suppressing his own protests. “I’m not sure how many of those things I would have if I hadn’t abandoned my… competitions. I was so focused on Edelgard’s path and measuring myself against it that I lost sight of the places my own feet could take me.

“What I am trying to say is this.” He smiled at Hubert, locking their eyes together. “Sometimes having no plan is the best plan of all.” 

Hubert sighed. The sharp edge of the anxiety had left him, but he could still feel the flat of its blade against his heart. “I wish I could convince myself to believe you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you've noticed that chapter count go up, it's because I've done some more thinking about how long things need to be. I've actually split this season into three parts now, because of how things made sense and just how MUCH is going on! So yeah, you're stuck with me a little longer. 
> 
> The next section will likely be up earlier than the two-week mark I'm usually shooting for as a result. Thanks for your patience, everyone!!
> 
> Also of note: the rating is likely to change next chapter. So keep an eye out for that.


	5. Winter Part 2 | Poinsettia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poinsettia: there is a myth related to this flower about gathering weeds on the side of the road-- the essential takeaway being: “give of yourself as you’re able.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO ANYONE READING IN THIS THE YEAR 2020: I've changed this chapter up-- namely, the last section of it. With that, the rating's going to be changing down to M! I just felt it fit a little better. 
> 
> I'll hopefully have the next chapter up in the next week or two, so hopefully by the beginning of October. You may also see parts of old chapters change as I correct things or change the form. I'll keep you abreast of any changes I make, but I suspect it'll be in flux just a little bit until the very end. 
> 
> Thanks for all of your patience, everyone.  
\- Olivier

Holiday baking with Edelgard was a longstanding tradition for the two of them, and they’d been doing it since Hubert had had enough sense to use an oven without burning himself. Nearly twenty years had passed since then, and with each passing holiday season they ended up with more tried and true recipes. Edelgard kept them in a thick notebook that she kept high in a kitchen cupboard, safe from harm. 

It was this notebook that she was reading aloud from now, telling Hubert just how much cream of tartar he needed to add to the egg whites along with the sugar and mint extract to make a serviceable meringue. “A quarter teaspoon.” 

“I could have sworn it was a half teaspoon.”

“Last year we doubled the recipe, that’s likely why.” Edelgard squinted at the notebook, wiping the flour on her hands from the shortbread she was making onto her apron. 

Bing Crosby played from speakers in the other room, White Christmas echoing off of the hard polished surfaces that largely composed Edelgard’s kitchen. 

Hubert hummed along, setting the standing mixer to a high setting and letting the egg whites go about their business relatively unsupervised. 

Edelgard rolled the shortbread on the table with a rolling pin, making a face when she realised she forgot to flour it. “I hope you realise I don’t intend to stop this tradition just because I’m getting married, Hubert.” She pulled the stuck dough off of the roller, piling it back in the middle of the counter. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” 

“I should hope not.” He pulled a rubber spatula out of a drawer so that he’d be prepared to scrape the sides of the mixing bowl. “I won’t be shaken off so easily, either. I should hope you’d realise that by now.” 

The silence that followed would usually be comforting. However, given recent thoughts and fears, Hubert found himself tugging on the collar of his shirt with a clean pinky finger. Edelgard’s face was hard to read as she rolled the shortbread dough, cutting it into rectangles and placing each onto a lined pan to slide into the upper portion of her double oven. 

“The store has been such a success the past few years, Hubert.” She spoke in careful tones as she set a timer. There was no warning in her tone, no ill will he could sense, just a measured formality the likes of which Hubert was used to hearing from her— just not usually directed at him. 

He tensed immediately, turning off the mixer and scraping the meringue off of the sides. “Yes, it has been. It was difficult for the first while, but business seems to be steady now.”

“Largely thanks to you, you know.” 

“I’ll accept a small amount of credit, but most of it should go to you.”

“Hubert.” The tones he was accustomed to returned, the same exasperated voice he heard whenever Hubert’s modesty interfered with some goal of Edelgard’s to praise him. 

But she took a little too long to continue. The spatula in his hands stilled, and he looked up at Edelgard. “Yes?”

She held the rolling pin in her hands, smiling softly. It was an expression unfamiliar to Hubert that she wore-- nerves, perhaps? But Edelgard spoke, her voice even again. “I’m trying to figure something out right now, but I need to know that I’ll have your support.”

Hubert blinked, placing the spatula on a clean piece of counter. “Edelgard, you should know that you never need to ask for that.” 

Lowering the rolling pin to the counter, she wiped off the floured surface— the two of them had a ‘clean as you go’ policy about kitchen mess that was strictly followed. 

“No matter what I decide?”

“No matter what you decide.” _ No matter how many flaming hoops I have to jump through, _ he thought to himself. He found, with no surprise at all, that he meant it. “Let us face facts, Edelgard. I’d probably help you bury a body if you asked.” 

Edelgard hummed at that, thinking for a second before gesturing past Hubert to a small bottle on the polished granite counter. “For now could you just pass me the vanilla?”

“Of course.”

* * *

  
The night of the party it snowed— big fluffy flakes that coated everything in sight with a layer of sparkling white. 

A snowflake stuck to Ferdinand’s eyelashes as they exited Hubert’s car, heading up Edelgard’s driveway. They were slightly early, partially so that Hubert could help Edelgard with any last minute preparations that she hadn’t herself already taken care of. With such a small group it wasn’t a huge problem, but Hubert above all prefered to make sure he was there if needed.

Perhaps another year this would’ve been a valid concern, but it seemed Byleth had made sure that things were well taken care of. 

He watched Ferdinand take them in, dark hair and expression hard to read— much like Hubert in a strange way now that he was thinking about it— and realised to his surprise that they hadn’t met before. 

Holding his shoulders, Hubert steered Ferdinand in Byleth’s direction— Byleth in turn was sitting on a couch eating what appeared to be a bag of cheese crackers, waving at Hubert as he arrived. “Byleth, this is Ferdinand.”

“It’s lovely to meet you!” Ferdinand beamed, holding out a hand that Byleth didn’t take. 

“It’s lovely to meet you too.” A smile. “Sorry,” they said, their eyes blank as they held up their fingers in response to Ferdinand’s falling face. “Cheese dust. Elbow shake?” 

“Ah.” Ferdinand didn’t seem to know quite how to react, but he did smile, reaching out to shake their elbow with his hand. 

“Now,” Hubert said, “I shall give you the tour.”  
  
Hubert showed Ferdinand the rest of the house (where to put jackets, where the bathrooms were,) as Byleth and Edelgard finished the rest of the preparations. By the time they returned, there were snacks set out, gifts laid on the table (to be taken home and enjoyed at the proper date), and both hosts now in their proper attire. 

Edelgard’s sweater was normal— pretty, in fact. A dark blue decorated in white and silver snowflakes, she showed it off to Hubert and Ferdinand while explaining that she has never participated in their ugly sweater competition. 

Ferdinand seemed slightly disappointed by that, but that vanished in favour of horrified amazement when he saw Byleth’s sweater.

It was _ terrible _. 

It was a dreadful green and blue thing with fish hooks stitched all over it and emblazoned with the phrase “Merry Fishmas”. A fish pattern ran up the sleeves in a sort of racing-stripe, and the back featured a large piece of fabric showcasing different kinds of fish that had been poorly stitched on top. 

Upon seeing it, Ferdinand dissolved into giggles the likes of which Hubert had never seen from him. He was of two minds. One, his boyfriend was adorable. But two, if Ferdinand was laughing this easily at Byleth’s sweater...

“Ah,” Hubert said, “I see it shall be a fierce competition this year.” 

His own sweater was in a reusable grocery bag that he’d left in Edelgard’s kitchen, inconspicuously covered with the scarf he’d worn outside. Lying in wait.

He’d come back for it later.

So instead he sat on Edelgard’s leather couch beside Ferdinand and watched him chat with Byleth about their respective careers as freelancers. It was comfortable, and he was happy to sit in silence as he listened to Edelgard answer the door. 

First was Petra, who took the first five minutes of her visit undressing from her winter garb, and the next five enthusiastically recounting her drive here and how slippery it was. Petra wasn’t the greatest driver and preferred to ride a bicycle during the warmer months, and this was only made worse by the snow. 

After that came Linhardt, his roommate in tow. Caspar had been coming along with Linhardt for as many years as the workers of Edelweiss had been celebrating the holidays together, and the relationship between the two of them had never been explained. 

Usually the occasion was reserved for partners, Caspar had been told. His reply had been “Partners in crime! Womb to tomb,” which he said enthusiastically before stuffing his face full of shortbread and making it impossible to question him further. 

To make matters even more confusing, Linhardt, when asked about his relationship with Caspar, had replied with a photocopy of their co-signed lease agreement that he apparently kept in his wallet as well as an explanation of their “contractual interpersonal relationship”. 

At this point everyone had accepted Caspar as an eventuality at these events, as long as he brought something along with him to share. 

“Sparkling juice!” He held it over his head like a victory prize before setting it on the table. “Vodka!” Caspar put it down beside it. “What do they make together?”

“Don’t bother answering, he’ll tell you,” Linhardt drawled from the next room. 

“Sparkling vuh-juice!” He gestured to the two bottles together like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. 

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Edelgard said softly as the room collectively groaned. 

“What?” Caspar’s face fell at the reaction. 

“You see, Caspar,” explained Byleth passively, “vuh-juice sounds vaguely like a slang term for vajina.” 

“Oh. Huh.” He left the bottles on the table and sat down on the floor, pensive.

As it turned out, the sparkling vuh-juice was actually quite good, and Caspar had brought more bottles of sparkling juice to mix. Ferdinand ended up curled up on the couch leaning against his boyfriend, sipping from a glass while Hubert’s arm rested loosely around his shoulders. 

As the one driving home, Hubert didn’t drink, but he did start to sip on some of the juice on its own. It was a bit sweet for his taste, but he enjoyed the sensation of the fizz and made a mental note to buy some champagne for himself and Ferdinand for the next special occasion.

Edelgard looked around at everyone settled around her living room and stood, clasping her hands together. “Now that everyone’s here, I suppose it’s time.” 

“Is it sweater time?” Ferdinand asked from his perch beside Hubert. He squeezed his thigh, a silent challenge that Hubert accepted with a squeeze of Ferdinand’s hand. 

“Yes, sweater time,” answered Edelgard, “if you have to go get changed, I suggest you go do so.” 

“Fuck _ yeah _ sweater time!” Caspar practically leapt over the table in response, going to get his sweater while Linhardt smiled and tipped over to curl up in the warm spot Caspar left. 

Ferdinand stood and smiled at him excitedly. “Aren’t you participating?”

“I’m good. I’m sitting this one out.” Linhardt yawned from the floor. 

it was arguably past his bedtime and the alcohol likely wasn't helping, but Caspar seemed to keep him awake-- the instant his presence was removed, the opposite effect seemed to set in. 

Hubert rose to get his bag from the other room and his sweater with it. Carrying it over his arm, he opted not to put it on right away-- it would likely be worth it to wait a few minutes and let others change. 

Petra popped around the corner in her sweater, and Hubert found himself smiling in his amusement. 

He could hear Edelgard on the loveseat behind him laugh. "Oh my goodness," she said, "I think the best part of that one is the colour."

Petra posed proudly and puffed her chest out. 

Edelgard was right-- the colour was _ awful _. A pea green item decorated on the front with a picture of the Grinch, it was emblazoned with the phrase "Feliz Navi-don't". Stripes of teal blue and red curled around the sleeves, clashing terribly with the green colour and making her arms look like a terribly unappetizing impression of two candy canes. 

Linhardt voiced his thoughts from the floor, however, as Byleth smiled into their drink. "Not quite ugly enough, but a good try." 

"It is hard to be competing with Hubert and Byleth," she explained with defiance, "my intention is not winning, but is simply being ugly." 

Hubert composed himself, then moved and patted her on the shoulder with a blank face. "And you have done a great job."

She beamed. 

Caspar ran in next, sliding halfway across Edelgard’s kitchen on socked feet. He was wearing the same sweater he wore every single year-- a screen-printed number covered in cats in santa hats riding on pieces of pizza in space. He’d been disqualified from competing with it the year before.

Hubert had to ask. “Did you forget that that sweater doesn’t count, or did you simply decide it was worth it?”

“Oh, it’s totally worth.” 

Linhardt piped up from the floor with a smile on his face. “You wear it around the apartment enough, you’d think you’d get tired of it eventually.” 

“Nope! Who could ever get tired of something this sick?” He pulled at the front of the sweater to show it off, giving it an appreciative grin. “Even if it means I have to stick it in the laundry again, it’s totally worth it if it means you’ll let me wear it around other _ actual people _.” 

“Please, I could hardly stop you.” 

“Well I mean, yeah, but you’d get that look on your face.” 

“Mm. Probably.” 

While Linhardt and Caspar kept chattering back and forth, Ferdinand rounded the corner with a sweater of his own. 

_ A strong contender _ , Hubert thought to himself. _ Shit _. 

It was emblazoned with a picture of a horse, as well as the phrase “Now watch me whip, now watch me neigh neigh”. He would’ve argued that it wasn’t in fact an ugly holiday sweater, but the horse seemed to be wearing a santa hat in addition to its sunglasses-- both of which were horribly appliqued on. The sleeves seemed entirely to be made of some kind of… Yarn-tinsel hybrid, with bits of what seemed like mohair and plastic sticking out at all angles. 

“Holy shit,” he heard Caspar say, “that sweater is _ something _.” 

“I think he might have me beat,” said Byleth from their spot beside Edelgard.

Ferdinand wore the comment like a badge of honour, and proudly paraded around the living room. He even had the nerve to twirl before looking Hubert right in the eye with a look that screamed _ I’d like to see you do better _. 

So that’s what Hubert decided to do, turning away as he unfolded his sweater and pulled it over his head as someone started clapping behind him. 

Linhardt whistled. “Hubert, oh my _ lord _.”

It was a red, black and white number, with “Krampus” written across the front and a picture of the creature stitched in what looked to be some kind of mohair disaster. The sleeves ended about halfway down Hubert’s forearms, ending in a trim of little metal chains dangling off the cuffs that made little tinkling noises as he moved. There was even an entire sack stitched onto the corner filled with stuffing to make it look like the wearer was carting off a bad child themself, and Hubert found himself turning to look Ferdinand directly in the eye with a look of defiance.

_ Ah yes, _ Hubert thought, smiling and spreading his arms before bowing deeply at the waist. Ferdinand was pouting, but it was easy to tell he was trying to hold back a smile. Even still-- there was that twitch in his eyebrow that gave him away. _ The look of someone who knows he’s been beaten. _

Edelgard trotted over and raised Hubert’s hand to raucous applause, from Ferdinand loudest of all, finally giving in and grinning.

* * *

  
As the party began to wind down, Ferdinand’s cheeks became redder and he became warmer and warmer. “I’m sorry,” he told Hubert when Hubert was forced to take off his sweater in response, “I’m told I can be a bit of a space heater.” 

Eventually it became so bad that Ferdinand decided to go and cool off on Edelgard’s back step. After a few minutes of waiting, Hubert went to follow him and attempted to ignore the sly look Linhardt gave him as he left. _ Thank you, _ he thought to himself, _ but that’s not my intention. _

His intention was just to check on Ferdinand, who he found leaning on the back railing of Edelgard’s deck and looking over her fence at the lights in the neighbourhood. It had stopped snowing, and he was still dressed in his sweater, but it was easy to see his breath leaving his body in cloudy puffs. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Hubert himself had thrown on his jacket for good measure, but Ferdinand didn’t even have a pair of gloves. 

“I’m quite comfortable, actually,” he replied, a light gust blowing a strand of hair out of place. “I’m quite comfortable with… all of this. I like these people.” Ferdinand reached and took Hubert’s hand, pulling him forward to stand beside him by the railing. 

Hubert’s hands were gloved, and he rubbed Ferdinand’s between his own to warm them as his boyfriend laughed good naturedly at him. “I told you, I’m quite fine.”

“You say that, but your hands have gone pink.”

“If you haven’t noticed, most of me is quite pink at the moment.” 

Looking up and examining Ferdinand, Hubert had to admit it was true-- his boyfriend was quite rosy-cheeked, and he removed a glove to place the back of his hand on Ferdinand’s forehead. 

Ferdinand leaned into the touch. “Mm. Your hands are cold.” 

“I’m almost surprised you haven’t thrown yourself into a snowbank. You’re positively boiling.” 

“I’ve been considering it.” 

“Mmm.”

Ferdinand pulled something out then, a small slender box he’d been keeping in his back pocket-- evidently not long enough to crush it, but long enough to crinkle the wrapping a little bit. “Here. Your gift.” 

Hubert raised an eyebrow but unwrapped it just the same, crumpling the wrapping with one hand and putting it in his pocket to throw out later. The box bore no markings, probably one that had been bought to hold something that didn’t have a box to begin with. 

He opened it to find a new pair of leather gloves. 

They were dark brown, almost black, and as he examined them they seemed to be lined with a warm material for the colder months. The insides were soft, and as Hubert slid them on to replace the gloves that he’d now taken off and handed to his boyfriend, he found they fit almost perfectly-- just a tad long in the pinky. 

“These are…” he wiggled his fingers inside the gloves and smiled. “...perfect. Thank you, Ferdinand.” 

“I’d hoped you would like them. You seem to quite like your current pair of gloves, but they didn’t seem particularly warm.” Ferdinand smiled, reaching out to hold one of Hubert’s hands and rub the back of it with his thumb. 

“Put on my old gloves then, your hands won’t be as cold.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

As Ferdinand slid on Hubert’s gloves, Hubert began the little bit he’d rehearsed. “For my part, I would like to give you a promise.”

“Oh?” Ferdinand pulled on the gloves until they were as tight as they would get. Hubert’s fingers may be slightly thinner, but they were a bit longer as well. 

“I would like to promise you another evening. With dinner that we don’t burn, and whatever you would like to make it properly romantic.” He paused. “To be collected on at a date of your choosing.”

Ferdinand smiled. “I think I quite like that idea.” 

Hubert’s hand moved to Ferdinand’s cheek, and Ferdinand stood with his eyes closed on the porch as if he was going to fall asleep upright. 

They passed a few seconds like that as Hubert examined his freckled cheeks, his eyelashes, the curve of his lips. 

Ferdinand opened his mouth to speak. “If you brought me a glass of ice, I would love you.” 

“And what if I don’t? There’s perfectly good snow right here.”

“Then I would probably still love you just the same.” 

Hubert could feel himself stiffen as the hand stroking Ferdinand’s cheek stilled and dropped. 

Ferdinand looked up at him, impossibly more red than before. It was as if he had given Hubert another challenge: one to meet him halfway and show his cards as well. 

It seemed Hubert took just a second too long to do so.

Ferdinand frowned. “I’m sorry, I--” 

“--I suppose I... should get you that ice then, to show my love in retur--” 

Hubert couldn’t finish that sentence, because Ferdinand had already grabbed his face and was kissing him. 

It took a half second for Hubert to react before he found himself kissing Ferdinand in return and placing one hand on his waist. Ferdinand smiled against him and he found himself, heavens above, grinning back. They knocked teeth once or twice before Ferdinand pulled back to laugh, and Hubert pulled back to breathe, and they both pulled back to smile wider at each other before Hubert kissed him again. 

It was cold and he could feel it beginning to snow, but Ferdinand’s lips were all the warmth he wanted. The rest of Ferdinand helped too; space heater was a good word for him, and his arms wrapped around Hubert’s neck and pulled him down into another embrace. 

And _ Ferdinand loved him. _

He got another few seconds to savour that thought before they heard a knock at the back door. 

Ferdinand jumped about three feet in the air, brushing himself and his hair down as Hubert looked at the glass door to see Linhardt wearing that sly look again. 

Scowling at him, Hubert hissed at Linhardt while straightening out his own slightly mussed hair. “What could possibly be so important.” 

Linhardt opened the back door and took a slight movement back when the wind hit him. “We’re all getting ready to leave, dear sweet Romeo.” 

“Thank you, Friar Laurence,” Hubert said as Ferdinand started laughing. 

The blush on his face was red and clashed terribly with his hair like it always did, but matched the blush on Hubert’s own. Hubert thought it was charming. 

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Ferdinand told Linhardt, who waved his hand and walked off with a smirk. 

“What are you--”

“Do excuse me for a moment.” 

And with that, Ferdinand jumped into a pile of snow. 

* * *

  
“Thank you, Edelgard. I’ll make sure he gets home alright.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Edelgard said as she leaned into the car window. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Of course.” 

“See you on Monday!” Ferdinand chirped up from the passenger seat. “I’ll likely come in to visit.” 

Hubert smiled at Edelgard. “Alright, have a good evening.” 

Edelgard moved away from the car and up her steps to join Byleth, waving as Hubert began to drive away. 

Ferdinand laid his head against the window and hummed as Hubert turned on a radio station that played carols in the evenings. Hubert could hear his boyfriend hum along to the ones he knew, and smiled-- Ferdinand seemed to really love this time of year, and it showed in these quiet moments of warmth. 

“We’re going to go to your house, and I’m going to walk your dog, and I’m going to get you into bed.” 

Ferdinand turned, and grumbled. “I’m hardly drunk, Hubert.” 

“You dove into a snowbank.” 

“You practically told me to! And besides, that actually did sober me up quite a bit. I’d walk a straight line in an instant.”

“I should _ think _ you would’ve recognised that as a joke. Even if you are sober at this point, I would like the opportunity to take care of you.” Hubert reached over and placed his hand on Ferdinand’s thigh, which seemed to work-- his partner seemed to calm under his touch, and placed his own hand over Hubert’s in return. 

“...I will agree if you agree to stay the night.”

“...That can be arranged.” 

They made the drive through to Ferdinand’s, and Hubert forced him to change into his pajamas and drink a large glass of water before he walked Ferdinand’s dog, Bishop.

Bishop was a large golden retriever who liked to sniff every tree and stick his nose in every weird spot and insisted on greeting everyone he met. Luckily at midnight it wasn’t such a big issue-- Bishop had been asleep on the floor when they got home, and was just as determined to get this over with as Hubert was. 

So that was done. Good. 

When he returned he followed Bishop up the stairs to Ferdinand’s room, where he’d already crawled under one side of the covers and was nursing a second big glass of water. He smiled at Hubert as Bishop curled up beside the bed. 

“He was good?”

“He was just fine,” Hubert said as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I wish walking him was always that easy.” 

“He just likes to explore, that’s all.” 

“Mmm.” Hubert planted a kiss on Ferdinand’s forehead, then stood again. “I’ll be right back.”

He left to brush his teeth with a brand new toothbrush Ferdinand had found for him in a drawer, and went to the washroom before coming back and peeling off his pants as Ferdinand gave him an appreciative hum. 

“Please. Coming from you, that feels positively condescending.” He crawled into bed beside Ferdinand and flicked off the lamp, settling the room in comfortable darkness. 

“Please. I’ll have you know you have very nice legs.” 

“Mmm. Hardly, they’re pasty and you know it.”

“Maybe I like pasty.” 

They laid down in silence as Ferdinand wrapped himself around Hubert’s back, one slung over his waist and playing with the hem of his shirt.

Hubert couldn’t help it anymore-- the thought had to get out of him. 

“Please do not tell me you only told me you loved me because you were drunk.”

Ferdinand sat up and flicked the lamp back on with a little ‘click’. “What? No.” 

Instead of sitting up Hubert rolled onto his back and looked up at him, his hair messy on the pillow below. “I keep wondering what I’ve done to deserve you.” 

Ferdinand leaned down and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. “You didn’t need to _ do _ anything. It’s not what you’ve done, it’s who you are.” He smiled and leaned down over Hubert, and Hubert swore then that he’d found a new sort of religion in this man above him and the halo of his ginger hair. 

“I love who you are,” he said, “I love that person so much. I love you, Hubert.” 

He kissed Hubert’s lips. “Your dark, ridiculous sense of humour.”

He kissed his jaw. “Your kindness when no one is looking.” 

He kissed the spot below his ear. “That look on your face you get when you’re embarrassed.” 

Hubert couldn’t bear it anymore, and sat up to take Ferdinand’s lips with his own, pulling him against him and sliding his hands under the edge of Ferdinand’s shirt. 

Ferdinand got the message instantly, and as he moved to straddle his boyfriend’s legs he simultaneously sat up and threw it aside, his hands crawling under Hubert’s shirt in turn.

Hubert didn’t think he’d ever get used to this view but he would never tire of it either.

Ferdinand was muscular, all abs and warm tanned skin and soft fine body hair that Hubert ran his hand over before pulling a grinning Ferdinand back by the neck to kiss him again. 

“You silly man,” Hubert said between kisses, “You could have anyone you wanted.” 

Ferdinand pulled away, pushing his hands up Hubert’s stomach. He slid Hubert’s shirt up with the movement and brushed his thumb over a nipple, bringing out a sharp inhale. “Yes, and I want _ you _.” 

“Speaking of ridiculous,” he hummed, attempting to retain his composure and his dignity-- neither would matter for long, but he was still attempting to maintain his grip on his taciturn persona for the time being. Hubert von Vestra was nothing if not _ stubborn. _

Ferdinand laughed at that, rolling his eyes with a little exasperated huff as he gently pushed Hubert’s shoulder into the mattress. “_ You’re _ridiculous. Let me love you. I do, you know.” 

“You what?” Hubert replied, clearly fishing while he ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, toying with the gentle red waves that fell around his freckled shoulders.

He scoffed in reply, flicking his forehead. “How many times must I say it for it to get through your thick head?” 

“Just once more-- or perhaps twice.” 

Ferdinand hummed, contemplating as if the next words were ones that really necessitated a bit of puzzling over; in truth, it was the delivery that seemed to require the extra effort. He smoothed Hubert’s hair off of his face again, pressed a kiss to his forehead and spoke against the skin. “I love you, stubborn dolt.” 

“Were you mumbling? I didn’t quite catch that--” 

“Oh, I called you a stubborn dolt,” he replied with a laugh as he moved to spread a little bloom of kisses across his collarbones, sitting up and motioning for Hubert to sit up as well so he could do away with his shirt altogether. 

Hubert agreed happily, tossing the shirt to the end of the bed and pulling Ferdinand back down with him. “I suppose I’ve been called worse,” he hummed, enjoying the feeling of the affection once again being lavished onto his neck and chest as his boyfriend moved further down. 

“I believe you’re supposed to say you love me too,” Ferdinand chided between kisses, resting his chin against his stomach as he looked up his body. 

Hubert tipped his head up, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly with a sigh. “I love you too,” he said as if it pained him, though the smile tugging at his lips was one he couldn’t swallow down. He also couldn’t resist the temptation to brush away a piece of hair from Ferdinand’s face, a tender little motion that his boyfriend leaned into with a smile as sweet as honey. 

“There,” Ferdinand answered, crawling back up his body to plant a kiss on his lips, sliding a sneaky thigh between Hubert’s legs and applying a bit of pressure. “Was that so hard?” 

“I don’t know about that,” Hubert replied, albeit a bit more breathy than before, “but I seem to be.” 

Ferdinand laughed, a bark of a thing as he threw his head back with a smile. “See? Ridiculous. I didn’t know you had a joke like that in you.” 

“Yes, well without something _ else _ in me, I have to make do.” 

He practically doubled over at that, stupidly whacking at the mattress in an attempt to restrain himself and the tears of laughter that began to flow down his cheeks. 

“Are you going to laugh at me or are you going to do something about it,” Hubert said, attempting to appear crabby once again. 

“I will, I will-- just, god.” He pulled back, moved his knee again and kissed Hubert’s lips-- Hubert could barely reciprocate, groaning against his lips. “You’re so silly. I don’t think I could have ever believed how silly you are before a few months ago.” 

“And now you’re stuck with me-- stop _ teasing. _” 

“Oh, but you react so well. You’re very pretty when you blush, you know.” 

All Hubert could do was blush harder, feeling his face warm as he turned it sideways into the pillow. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone call me that and mean it, before.” 

“Well I mean it,” Ferdinand said, resolute as ever as he smoothed his hands over Hubert’s stomach, over his hips. “Maybe everyone else in your life is simply blind.”

“Or maybe you are,” he chuckled quietly. 

Ferdinand pinched him, apparently not seeing the humour in it. “No more of that.” 

“Yes, yes. Alright. I’ll refrain from self-deprecation.” 

“You’d better,” he said with a fond smile as he moved between his legs, sliding his fingers under the waistband of his pants before undoing them with a practiced flick of his thumb. 

Hubert sighed, feeling some relief in the release of pressure-- but it wasn’t long until Ferdinand was on him again, intent on showing his adoration with the indulgent movement of his fingers, the skillful workings of his tongue. 

Soon enough it was more than a zipper undone but his pants and underwear discarded, Ferdinand’s tossed haphazardly somewhere alongside and replaced with warm hands and wandering limbs and the laughs and kisses of two people who’ve come to understand each other and adore what they’ve found. 

As always, they both teased, and they both laughed, and they both had _ fun _ with each other in a way no one else seemed able to supply in addition to giving each other a pleasure no one else could give. 

It was enough to make Ferdinand’s arms feel like home, as much as they ever had-- for that was what they were making with each other with each kiss, each movement of their hips, each murmured bit of affection or praise or joke that came along the way. A home, a place that they’d found together, a new haven for Hubert to rest his head. 

In some ways it was a literal place, Hubert’s tousled hair splayed about the pillow as they moved together, and in some ways it was just knowing that there was someone who was there for him who wasn’t _ obligated _ by some kind of shared history or years-long relationship. Something that could crumble, but didn’t-- that held fast by virtue of its own strength and almost arbitrary devotion. 

It was nothing at all, and in that respect it became everything. It became in and of itself as overwhelming as the hands on him, the friction _ inside _of him, the pressure and the heat and the pleasure arriving all at once before their bodies began to slow. 

They lay intertwined for a short while before the next stage of their evening began, Ferdinand leaning over Hubert and pressing more kisses to his shoulder while he cleaned his stomach and ches, Hubert smiling and combing through his hair. It was a routine like any other, but there was still something new about it-- and though it was a routine, Hubert knew that it would never truly grow old, that much was certain. If there was a future where the two of them lay old and grey together, intertwined much like they were now, some part of Hubert knew that he’d enjoy the feeling of those kisses just as much, the feeling of those caring little passes of tissue or cloth. He hoped Ferdinand felt the same, and would never tire of giving them to him.

Ferdinand’s fingers, brushing softly over his skin in a sort of gentle reverence, halted as Hubert began to laugh.

“...Pardon?”

“Bishop,” Hubert said between chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Bisho-- oh dear lord.” Ferdinand looked over at his dog sleeping peacefully at the side of the bed, turning bright red. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.” 

Hubert continued to laugh, as Ferdinand became dressed again and started apologising to his dog. 

“It’s not like he understands English. Or… sex, I suppose. If sex were a language.”

“Yes, but it’s like realising your child was in the room with you! Have a little sympathy, Hubert!”

“Yes, yes… of course, Ferdinand.” 

Hubert dressed himself as best as he could with the t-shirt and underwear Ferdinand passed him before curling up in bed, Ferdinand joining him after petting his dog enough to assuage some of his guilt. 

As they curled up together, toes touching under the warmth of the blankets, Hubert smiled from his place behind Ferdinand and kissed the top of his shoulder.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” Ferdinand replied.

“I love you,” Hubert said.

“I love you too,” Ferdinand replied. 

_ And isn’t that something _, Hubert thought to himself as he finally drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XVII  
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,  
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:  
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,  
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
> 
> I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries  
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,  
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose  
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
> 
> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
I love you directly without problems or pride:  
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,  
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,  
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,  
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
> 
> Pablo Neruda.  
trans Mark Eisner.
> 
> * * *


	6. Winter Part 3 | White Calla Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White Calla Lily: Often used in weddings, they are traditional symbols of divinity, marital bliss and true devotion. They also represent major transitions, rebirths and new beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!!
> 
> NOTE TO ANYONE READING IN THIS THE YEAR 2020: I've changed the previous chapter up-- namely, the last section of it. With that, the rating's going to be changing down to M! I just felt it fit a little better. You may also see parts of old chapters change as I correct things or change the form. I'll keep you abreast of any changes I make, but I suspect it'll be in flux just a little bit until the very end.
> 
> Thanks for all of your patience, everyone.  
\- Olivier

He’d been there since four in the morning, last taken a break at six, and though the coffee cups defied everyone and their damned dog’s attempts to count them, if Hubert had to guess they probably numbered between six and eight. There were things to be done, things to take care of, things to handle. 

On top of his normal duties, Hubert was a whirlwind of productivity in the preparations for Edelgard’s wedding. Perhaps more than Edelgard herself—who was of course her own small force of nature. He was on a mission to make sure that everything his closest friend wanted, and didn’t even know she wanted, was fulfilled. The days were filled with calls to Dorothea that were likely driving her mad, messages to various vendors, venues and contractors, and meticulous checking and double-checking of every imaginable detail. 

Meanwhile, Hubert was also running the shop with a mad kind of efficiency as he pulled all the staff along with him, doing half of everyone else’s job in his frenzy. It was a miracle that he hadn’t made a mistake. Then again it was Hubert, and he was nothing if not detail oriented. 

To tell the truth he was fucking exhausted, but he’d be damned if he was going to admit it. Hubert was a particular kind of meticulous that would bring about his demise someday, but currently it was just serving to make everyone in his life worry that he would grind himself into dust. 

It was ten in the morning, and Ferdinand came in for his daily worry of the day with a coffee for Hubert and a furrowed brow, stopping to speak with Linhardt at the front desk before he would inevitably go to the back. 

“—has it been since he last took a break?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not his mother, but too long would be my guess.” 

“How many cups of—” 

“Too many. I’d hide that coffee if I were you.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s—oh, Hubert!” Ferdinand’s face lit up at the sight of him, and Hubert watched him do a quick scan from head to toe to make sure that though he was exhausted, he wasn’t necessarily dying. The sunken circles under his eyes, the tremor of his hands and the twitch of his brow each likely taken in by Ferdinand’s sharp eyes as he was surveyed. 

“Good morning,” Hubert said, offering a weak but rare smile, Petra following behind him. 

“Ferdinand! It is good to be seeing you!” She greeted, a hint of relief in her voice at seeing the one thing that could reliably get Hubert to take a break arriving through the door—Edelgard was far too busy to intervene. Besides, even if she hadn’t been, Hubert liked to run renegade of her orders from time to time.

Ferdinand handed him the coffee, and Hubert took it thankfully with a sip, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour of the nearby shop fondly before further examining the to-go cup.

He paused.

"...Yes?" Ferdinand fidgeted quietly.

"This is decaf."

"Why yes, I guess it is."

"I don't—forget it." He shrugged, took another sip.

Ferdinand's shoulders settled noticeably before he followed Hubert into the back room, and then slowly rose again with barely maskedanxiety.

It looked almost as if a miniature tornado had hit the backroom in places, Hubert cleaning up after himself in bursts to the extent necessary before moving on to the next task. He'd do the full clean at the end of the day in order to prevent the build-up of grime or plant matter, but for now, it was a bit of a free-for-all.

"Wow," Ferdinand said simply as Hubert stood in front of the premiere bit of mess at the moment—a table arrangement filled with white and wine-red flowers, as well as pale greenery that trailed to the table from the edge of the wide-mouthed vase. Laden with dark ranunculus and pale calla lilies, it was a beautiful piece of work, all tiered layers and balance of colour and luxury in its form. Perfectly composed.

"I've been—pardon me," Hubert said, stopping mid-sentence to adjust a lily, "—apologies. I've been working at this for a while now."

"How long is a while?" Ferdinand's concern was obvious.

"It doesn't matter," Hubert said, fiddling some more. "It's almost finished. Almost. The issue is, I can't figure out quite what's wrong with it."

"Hubert, it looks perfect," Ferdinand said, moving to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"But it isn't," he practically hissed, shrugging the hand off.

"Would you like to rethink what you just did for a moment?"

"Rethink—" He paused, dropped himself onto a stool with a decided slouch. "I might be a little on edge."

Ferdinand's mouth pulled into a little expression of thought, lips thin and pressed together, before finally sighing and picking the arrangement up carefully to move it to the opposite end of the table, much to Hubert's horror. "That's enough for now."

"But—"

"No. How much overtime have you put in in the past few weeks?"

Hubert took a moment before he realised that he didn't actually know. Ferdinand had a point, but also—

His train of thought was quickly interrupted. "And you do realise you're not personally responsible for the success of this wedding, right? As much as you seem to think so, there are people whose job it is to make sure it goes well. You can relax a bit."

Hubert soured. "I know that, but—"

"Again. No buts. If you know that, then please stop taking on the jobs of six different people." Ferdinand sighed, carding a hand through his own hair while the crease between his brow softened. "I just worry. I don't even remember the last time I woke up to find you still in bed."

He'd been ready to argue, but Ferdinand was making nothing but sense. Not only that, but there were the beginnings of guilt pooling in Hubert's stomach, threatening to push up his throat.

He swallowed it down and opened his mouth before he was pre-emptively interrupted.

"Before you start arguing with me, tell me how much sleep you got last night."

Hubert's mouth clamped shut before opening again. "Somewhere around three or four hours."

Ferdinand's arms crossed as he turned his head to call to Linhardt and Petra, who were anxiously waiting outside the room for some sort of resolution to whatever tension they could feel emanating from outside of the room. "We're going home."

"We're—"

"No. We're going home right now, and you're going to stop scaring me. Linhardt and Petra can take care of the rest for today. I believe Byleth is coming in later to help, as well."

"This is—" 

"What. Ridiculous?"

Hubert glowered. "Yes. Ridiculous."

Ferdinand smiled.

Usually Ferdinand's smiles were something Hubert loved—a warm expression that softened each of his features. He smiled often, and Hubert looked forward to each expression like a plant growing toward the sun, stem blown sideways even in shade by the phototropism that had taken hold of him. 

This wasn't that kind of smile. Hubert bristled at the sight of it, reluctantly standing to get his things as that smile shifted to something much more genuine, and heavily tinged with relief.

With a few parting instructions that Ferdinand had to aggressively cut off by practically dragging him out the door, they were off and out into the snow, returning to the house they now shared.

Within an hour, Ferdinand had Hubert fed, in his pajamas, and in bed.

_Their_ bed now, Hubert having moved in after a particularly peaceful and downright pedestrian conversation had over a cup of their respective beverages.

One day Hubert had come to the realisation that he had a favourite burner on his boyfriend’s stove, and that had been essentially enough to cement the realisation that he essentially lived there anyway. Almost everyone was somewhat relieved by the formal move—Hubert’s apartment hadn’t been known for being cozy, and Ferdinand wasn’t terribly fond of staying there either. It was cold and impersonal, and the touches didn’t feel his.

That was something they were working on at their own house, traces of Hubert being added in the form of photos, or album covers framed on the walls, or even just a pair of gloves on the kitchen table. With each passing day, the space became more theirs, and more his.

The first thing he had brought had been his favourite pillow, which was now supporting his neck as he looked up at his partner with a frown. 

"I'm… sorry," Hubert started.

"Oh, I came in there knowing that I'd have to fight to get you to leave. It went fairly well, all things considered." He hardly seemed bothered.

Hubert blew his bangs out of his face, frowning from his vantage point on the pillows. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Ferdinand chuckled. "But I was right, wasn't I? You're argumentative and stubborn—that's half of why our conversations are so interesting, anyway. I wouldn't remove those parts of you for the world."

He continued pouting anyway, until Ferdinand finally pulled his head into his lap and started combing through his hair. "That's enough of that. That's enough of anything, except sleeping. You, sir, are going to have a nap."

Every touch of Ferdinand's fingers on his scalp helped uncoil his nerves, but he wouldn't be himself if he didn't protest a little bit. "I'm sure there are probably some chores I could do instead," he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Later. Your productivity can afford some sleep."

Hubert groaned. "Fine, fine. But if I'm going to nap…"

"Yes?"

"Could you keep the dog in the kitchen? If I’m forced to worry about his penchant for licking whichever part of my body hangs out of the blankets, I feel like I may not sleep very well."

Ferdinand smiled, fingers massaging Hubert's hairline, combing his bangs upward so he could look at his whole face at once. "Of all the things to worry about." He leaned down to press a kiss to Hubert's forehead. "Sure, that's an easy request."

Pushing Hubert gently to signal he should settle into the pillows instead, Ferdinand stood to go attend to it, afterward returning to find Hubert already tangled in the blankets, nearly asleep. 

The last thing Hubert registered was a fond voice calling him a "silly man" before he finally drifted away.

Edelgard's wedding came quickly and with no shortage of stress and fanfare, though Ferdinand very pointedly made sure that Hubert had as reasonably sized a part in the final preparations as was possible going forward. He was limited to Byleth and Edelgard's flowers, as well as some work on the flowers for the wedding party. As much as he liked to fuss over their perfection it was disallowed, Petra ensuring that the pieces were whisked away and in the cooler before he had too much time to fiddle.

Possibly more surprising than the fact that Ferdinand had managed to limit him like that was the fact that Hubert allowed it, taking a bit of time to sleep and relax. There was quite a bit of contemplating to be done, especially after Edelgard asked him to meet with her about a week out from the actual ceremony, meeting at the coffee shop down the road instead of talking in the back room like usual.

"This is odd," he began, starting the conversation by pointing out the elephant in the room. 

"Yes, well,” she acknowledged, “the shop is in total chaos at the moment. Not very conducive to business meetings.” 

The light came on quietly, Hubert nursing his coffee with a quiet hum—the same blend as Ferdinand got him when he stopped by. It continued to be excellent, but less infuriatingly so. “Ah, so it’s to be business today, then.” 

“To some extent,” Edelgard smiled, taking a sip of her own Earl Grey. “We do, in fact, have a few things to discuss, and business is at the forefront.” 

“Do go on.” A little gesture of the hand as he stretched his back gently to the side, feeling fewer knots than usual. “If I don’t take the full lunch break, the others might report back to Ferdinand, so I’m quite at my _forced _leisure.” 

She shook her head and smiled fondly at him. “The rest looks good on you, Hubert. Is there any chance I could convince you to keep working at this pace _after _my wedding?” 

“Absolutely none.” 

“Typical. You never have listened to me, have you?”

“I listen to you all the time,” he countered, “when you say things that are practical.” 

Something about that seemed to make Edelgard fonder instead of inducing the usual exasperation she displayed at these types of retorts, rolling her eyes as she took another sip of tea. “Yes, yes—because giving you a decent and _deserved _wage is so impractical. You practically run the place for me, you should—”

“And take from the bottom line like that? It would have a remarkable effect on the profits of the store, not to mention the ability to pay the wages of the other employees.”

“Please, money is hardly an issue. I could keep Edelweiss open even if it were hemorrhaging money, you know that.” Sip. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to start tracking your overtime?” 

A scoff that only Edelgard would be able to recognise as playful. “You’d be out of business within the week.”

“It’s my job as your employer to tell you that you should be tracking it.”

“And you have done so—you’re freed of your liability.”

His boss sighed, as if the exchange were something she needed, a bit of normalcy amongst all the craziness that her life had become. Hubert supposed that was what it was, at least—the ability to revert to the same arguments they always had, get the same answers to the same questions. It was actually rather comforting to Hubert in a way, something to fall back on when the world around him was so chaotic.

She placed her cup on the table, tenting her hands and leaning her chin onto them with a curious expression. “What if Ferdinand asked you instead of me?” 

He crossed his arms. “Ferdinand isn’t my boss.” 

“And what if he were to be in charge? In a manner of speaking.” 

Hubert’s brow furrowed. “Is this what this is about?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. The words seemed to come slowly to her it seemed, the first few halting before coming out all at once in a sheepish little admission. “Well, Hubert… I’ve… well. I’ve decided to go to law school. I already have my acceptance.” 

The word _go_ was the last one he heard before his brow smoothed out, arching a surprised half inch. “I… well. And you’re putting…?” 

She inhaled, exhaled, and it pained him to see her stressed to tell him of _anything_. “Not necessarily. The two of you would be working together while I’m away. He knows the business, and will be working with a reliable, established brand. There’s almost no way it can go wrong if you remain here—you keep the quality high and the costs as low as you can, he handles the strictly business side as well as the public relations. You know how charming he can be once he gets going; after all, he won _you _of all people over.” 

Hubert had to admit, it seemed rather fool-proof. But… “Does _he_ know about this?” 

“His interview is this afternoon, and before you say anything, he hasn’t said anything to you out of respect for me. It’s been killing him for days.” She tilted her cheek into her hand, head shaking slightly in exasperation and only serving to nuzzle her face further into her palm. It was _almost _charming enough to distract Hubert from his racing thoughts enough to not feel moderately… well, to tell the truth, his feelings were a mystery even to him. 

He leaned his chin into his fist, attempting to sort through a quagmire of instantaneous thoughts. “If I might comment… The concept of _while_ you’re away feels rather incongruent with the idea of going to law school, and dare I say incompatible. You make it sound as if it’s temporary, and yet you’ve chosen a path that requires the full dedication of your time.” 

Aha, Hubert seemed to have struck a chord. Edelgard attempted to cover it with a neutral expression even as her cheeks went pink. “You’ve caught me,” she replied. “The reality of the situation is that I don’t know whether I’ll be able to be involved at all from this day forward.” 

“I’ll—” 

“There’s no going with me, Hubert. We both know that makes no sense.” 

He quieted then and took a fortifying sip of his coffee. While it might have made others nervous, he felt a little bit more at ease feeling its warmth seep down into his stomach; caffeine overload was his base level, anyway. 

It took a few moments of Edelgard waiting in suspense for his thoughtful response for Hubert to finally ask a question. “Where is ‘away’?”

“Garreg Mach.” 

“And Byleth?” 

“Already accepted as an assistant professor—they applied at the university at the same time I did and were offered a position in the faculty of business.” 

“Well,” he replied, sitting back in his seat. “It seems like you’ve moved quickly, to have everything so well settled.”

“Not really,” she admitted, sheepish again. “It’s been… well. A few months in the making. Byleth’s application particularly took a great deal of time.”

He quieted at that, pensive as he took another sip and soaked in the generic coffeehouse jazz. 

Finally he gave her a nod, quiet and solemn as he took more pieces of information in. “You know, I would tell you I’ll miss you, but we both very well know that’s not how we operate.” 

She smiled, seeing right through him as only Edelgard could. “No, I know, Hubert. I’ll miss you too.” 

The day of the wedding, Hubert was almost as nervous as Edelgard was, intent on ensuring that everything went off without a hitch. Of course, it would, and his friend would look stunning and regal, and the pictures (courtesy of Ferdinand) would be perfect. Dorothea had everything well in hand, of course, and Bernadetta was on hand for any last-minute alterations or fixes—there was no justification for Hubert being as worried as he was. 

Everyone else buzzed around like a little worker bee ensuring their part was perfect, the guests took their seats, and Hubert waited for Edelgard to get ready, dressed to the nines with a calla lily artfully applied to his lapel with a small sprig of pine and some red ribbon to tie the two together.

The waiting was absolutely killing him. Watching everyone else do their task while he was planted where he was? It was sheer torture without the ability to fuss and fiddle and stick his fingers into things to ensure they ran at their most efficient. 

Ferdinand stood at Hubert’s side, their arms intertwined and their flowers matching, even though Ferdinand wasn’t one of the wedding party—one of the perks of dating the florist. Their suits didn’t match, Hubert’s a lovely dark grey while his partner’s trended toward navy, the contrasting colour setting off the orange tones in his hair.

Hubert couldn’t even appreciate it, distracted as he was.

A bump of Ferdinand’s hip shook him back to reality for a moment. “So. How are we feeling.” 

“Strange.” Hubert cursed himself—that wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. He changed it. “Fine.” 

“Strange?” 

Fuck.

“Fine,” he repeated, rubbing Ferdinand’s wrist comfortingly as they lingered outside of the suite where Edelgard was being primped and prepared for her walk down the aisle. “I’m fine—you should take your seat.” 

“Yes, I should, but you should also try to relax. You’re going to wear a groove in the floor if I leave you like this, Hubert.” 

Hubert’s foot, tapping on the floor impatiently, stopped as he took stock of his body and glowered. “There. Relaxed.” 

Ferdinand was less than impressed. 

Sighing, Hubert looked to the side for a few moments, listening for Edelgard’s voice on the other side of the door as she did the last few preparations. He couldn’t quite tell her words, and didn’t really _wish _to, but he could hear her inflection. That nervous little pitch she got when she was anxious, a bit of awkward laughter. 

About what he’d expected, but nothing that he could be truly comfortable with. 

Ferdinand must have noticed it, because he gave him a light pinch on the back of the hand that had him scowling once again, Ferdinand only giving him a sympathetic little smile in return. “Come now, you’re not going to help her by worrying. You can help her by being confident. She’ll be fine as soon as she starts down the aisle.” 

Hubert knew he was right, and the thought alone had him sighing into his hand before straightening himself out, making a conscious effort to relax his posture and mind. Deep cleansing breaths were the menu of the day, and Ferdinand seemed to visibly relax as well at the image of him unwinding. 

“There. Should I go back to my seat, or are you going to start winding yourself up again like some kind of anxiety jack in the box?” 

“Some kind of—yes, go sit, I’ll be fine.” 

Somehow, he was, relaxing the moment he saw Edelgard’s posture and poise in her chosen outfit. 

The way she smiled, almost sheepish, made Hubert _beam_ for once in his life.

He offered her his arm to hook her hand into, and she adjusted her cape and train slightly as she took it, settling a gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. It was stunning, the blood red lining of the cape offsetting the pure white of the dress itself, which set off the ivory tones in her hair. It looked all at once white and like spun pale gold, the way it settled in two small waves of silk against her collarbones as the rest curled into a bun at the nape of her neck, studded with pearl.

It was a different sensation from seeing your girlfriend or your future wife in their wedding gown—much more like seeing your younger sister, or a close friend. Hubert knew in that moment how Edelgard felt by the smile on her face, knew her excitement and her confidence, and in that moment he knew his own kind of peace.

This was an Edelgard he didn’t have to worry about.

This was an Edelgard who would be just fine without him.

He walked with her down that aisle with pride, not a step behind as he often did, but arm in arm and side by side until he passed her off and moved out of the way.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me. I mostly talk about claurenz these days, but I swear I still like and like talking about these two with others. 
> 
> [@Olivier_ebooks](http://www.twitter.com/Olivier_ebooks)

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter is [@Olivier_ebooks](http://www.twitter.com/Olivier_ebooks) if you want to stop by. I draw sometimes too, and I probably could use more friends.


End file.
